Unfamiliar Familiar
by Eihwaz Ehwaz
Summary: Everyone knows that the wand chooses the wizard but fewer are aware that familiars can choose their wizard as well. How will Severus Snape react when he is chosen by a bird of an unusual breed? Rated T for potential swearing.
1. Free!

**AN: I'm new to the HP fandom (not new to HP or to fanfic in general) but I haven't written in years and I haven't posted anything for public consumption in even longer. This, my first post in ages, is 1) unbetad and 2) not exactly a deep, thought-provoking work. (By the by, if you would like to rectify issue #1, please let me know.) Support and concrit are welcome. Flames will be used to melt the snow lingering outside. Oh, and yeah, the site is called fanfiction dot net for a reason. Not mine. Consider the story disclaimed.**

Free! He was free. He could hardly believe it. At long last he was free!

He was free to feel the air rushing past, bearing him up, higher and higher. Flapping his wings, he reveled in every yard he moved further away from what others might have referred to as his home. True, he was unused to the exercise but he allowed instinct to guide him and eagerly catalogued every new sensation for future use.

He was not meant to be caged, not meant to live his life locked away from others, forced to be silenced when visitors were around, pointedly ignored, if he was lucky, at all other times. And so, when they had forgotten to secure his door before leaving for an evening entertainment, he had snuck out, intending nothing worse than snitching some food from the kitchen. It was then he noticed that they had left a window open to enjoy the warm spring breeze. Not thinking of the potential consequences—not thinking of anything save how anywhere had to be better than here—he had made good his escape, climbing onto the window sill and leaping off, and his feet had not touched the ground since. Never again would he submit to captivity, to being fed scraps when they bothered to feed him at all.

So he flew on glossy black wings as fast and as far as the wind could take him, resolved never to return to the house that was never home.

But years of enduring close confines and inadequate meals had taken their toll. Sooner than he would have liked he was forced down, landing in a tree on the edge of an open field. Several children were playing a very noisy game and he was more than happy to join his cries to theirs, drawing their attention. They admired him for some time, handsome bird that he was, but as he ignored all attempts to entice him out of the tree with whatever food they had on them—he was hungry, yes, but not foolish enough to trust them—they soon lost interest and left.

To his delight, much of the food used to lure him closer had been left behind, and once the children were out of sight he flew down and ate his fill. After a moment's consideration, he took to the air again, looking for another park and another meal. By the time the sun had gone down he had visited five parks and was now perched in a dense thicket of trees with a full belly and crop. On the whole, he was feeling rather pleased with himself for his success. His life had taken a definite turn for the better.

H~*~P

His days had been spent flying free, scrounging food from children, parking lots, trash cans and the like. Occasionally a person would offer him some fresh food which he would only take once they had retreated to a safe distance or left, and he had discovered several bird feeders that supplied him with seeds, even if he was a bit large to eat from them comfortably. Yet, mindful of the life he was escaping, he never stayed more than a day or two in the same town.

Over time, his muscles had grown stronger and he could fly further and further each day. He had also gone through a molt. It was several weeks of itchy skin and irritating pin-feathers, but the result was unmistakable. His improved diet—and the food he was eating was an improvement on what he had been fed, even if it did sometimes come from trash cans—had led to his new feathers having a much healthier sheen than his old ones.

Unfortunately, he now had a new challenge to contend with. Although he understood the seasons in general terms, cycles of warmth and cold, days lengthening and shortening, time meant little to him in his new life. Thus, it had taken him a few days to recognize the danger of the cooler nights that had left him shivering. Simply surviving had been difficult enough, but how was he to survive the long period of cold that was coming nearer with each passing sunset?

What to do was at the forefront of his mind this day as he flew over a seemingly endless forest. Later, he would admit that he should not have allowed himself to become so distracted while flying, even if the problem was one that needed to be solved sooner rather than later. Be that as it may, with his mind focused on how to find a warm place to spend the nights and a steady supply of food to last him through the cold, he did not notice the storm until it was upon him.

Cold winds whipped at his wings, buffeting him this way and that while torrents of rain drenched him to the skin. The rain was so thick that he didn't notice how close he was to the building until nearly too late, at least partially because he wasn't expecting a building this tall in the middle of nowhere. He hadn't even noticed that the forest beneath him had given way to a grassy lawn. He swerved away from the mass of grey stone, but an ill-timed gust of wind made it impossible to completely avoid the collision. With a squawk of pain, he tumbled down, barely managing to flap his wings—yes even the injured one—hard enough to slow his fall and avoid further injury.

Fortunately, he had fallen within sight of a second, much smaller building, this one made of wood, not stone. It would have taken him only a few seconds to fly the distance, but his left wing, while not broken, hurt too much to attempt to fly just now. So he walked on feet not well designed for the task, once or twice to proclaiming his irritation with the weather at the top of his lungs as he went, though his shrieks were overpowered by the wind. After several minutes he reached the hut and began a careful climb up to the roof, his deft beak and dexterous feet gaining having no trouble finding purchase on the rough woodwork. He eventually managed to find a perch under the eaves and up against the chimney. It was warm here, and as dry as could be hoped for. With nothing else to do but wait for the storm to pass, he turned his head around to his back, tucking his beak into his feathers, and settled in to sleep. With any luck the ache in his wing would subside by morning.


	2. A Choice

Professor Snape swept out the castle doors and walked with purposeful and measured strides in the direction of the gamekeeper's hut, glaring at a noisy group of first-years—Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, he noted—as he passed. The day was unseasonably warm to the point of being uncomfortable, and the sun beating down on his black robes only worsened the situation, yet he did not falter in his purpose or let any hint of his discomfort show. His irritation, however, he did not even attempt to restrain. At least one child flinched away from his sharp look, he noted with pride.

Normally, he would have preferred to be in the cool of the dungeons on a day such as this one, but today he had been driven out of the castle by the wagging tongues of dunderheaded children. Every year there were a number of students who were convinced that he was an unregistered animagus who took the form of a bat or a raven or some other similarly dark animal with an unpleasant reputation. That was fine. Somewhat amusing, even. But he would not stand for any insinuations that he was anything other than full-blooded human, and he had overheard several students in the last week discussing whether or not he, Severus Snape, was a vampire. It was altogether unacceptable.

Walking down to Hagrid's hut on a sunny weekend afternoon in full view of any number of students ought to put that rumor to rest. It was fortunate that Hagrid had sent a brief letter this morning informing Snape that he had acquired a valuable potions ingredient or he might have had to manufacture a plausible reason for his walk. Preferably one that involved taking a large number of points from the houses of the gossipers.

"Hello, Professor. Come for the horklumps have yeh?" Hagrid called in greeting, from too great a distance to be considered polite.

Snape suppressed a grimace at the gamekeeper's predictably poor manners. It wasn't that he disliked the man, precisely, he just found his relentless friendliness to be off-putting. Beyond that, Hagrid's judgement was on par with that of the average thirteen year-old. Snape did not care for the antics of teenagers at the best of times; seeing similar behaviors performed by an adult only made the situation worse. Still, for all the man's foolishness he was competent at his job and kept an eye out for useful potions ingredients without needing to be asked. He might not wish to take tea with the half-giant, but neither did Snape wish to alienate him.

"Yes, and I thank you for your effort in collecting them rather than exterminating them. I trust they did not do too much damage to your garden?"

Hagrid had led the way around to the back of his cottage and was opening the lids of several earthenware pots sitting against the wall. He paused to wave a shovel-sized hand. "Nah, nothin' that can' be set to rights soon enough. Ah, here it is." He picked up one of the larger pots and Snape took it with a nod.

"My thanks again, Hagrid." Snape said. He was about to turn, eager to retreat from the relentless rays of the sun, when he noticed the uncertainty in Hagrid's stance and realized that there was something on the man's mind. Hagrid hadn't said anything, and it was quite possible he wouldn't unless prompted. Snape very much wished to return to his quarters, but Hagrid had just done him a favor, quite possibly to his own detriment. When dealing with a garden, killing the horklumps was a surer method of control than uprooting them, since the infestation would return if even one tentacle was left underground. It would be only polite to spare a few moments of his time in return.

He paused and lifted one eyebrow, waiting.

"Er…" Hagrid shuffled his feet.

"Yes, Hagrid?"

"I was wonderin' if yeh might be willin' to give me a hand with summat."

Snape put down the jar of horklumps, indicating his willingness to at least listen.

"You remember the big storm we had abou' a week ago? Well next mornin' I found this." Hagrid gestured up towards the wall of his hut. Snape, following the direction of the wave, was just able to make out an unusual shadow up under the eaves. He took a half-step closer to the hut and squinted up into the darkness. A large bird of some sort, although between the bird's own feathers and the shadowy perch, it was difficult to tell more than that.

"He was injured. Couldn' fly, but was willin' to hurt himself further tryin' to get away from me. Even now he don' let me get too near before kickin' up a fuss. I can hardly leave him there hurt as he is, but he won' let me help."

That was surprising; Hagrid had a way with animals. "I do not see how I could be of any assistance. Your skill with animals far surpasses my own."

What was visible of Hagrid's face behind the bushy eyebrows, hair, and beard flushed at the compliment. "I thought tha' you might be able to get close enough for a spell or two. Put him to sleep, or maybe tell me wha's wrong."

"I can't put him to sleep, I'm afraid. The spells I know are intended for use on humans, and even the ones for children are likely too powerful for an animal of that size. I can attempt a diagnostic, but I am no expert on animals. It will produce results, but I cannot promise that I will be able to properly interpret them. Would not Professor Kettleburn's assistance be preferable?"

"He tried, but the poor creature took a dislike ter Proefssor Kettleburn righ' from the firs'. Nearly bit off a finger, he did."

"Very well, I shall make an attempt. I have no intention, however, of risking any of my fingers." Snape walked as close to the wall as he dared, stopping when a rustling sound suggested that the bird had begun to shift anxiously at their increasing proximity. For a moment he stood still, staring into the darkness and waiting for his eyes to adjust. It took a minute before he was able to make sense of what he was seeing. "A parrot?"

"Figure he was someone's pet an' got lost," Hagrid supplied, but Snape was focused on the bird. He had cast his diagnostic charm as Hagrid was speaking and the bird had reacted by shivering and tilting its head down to peer at Snape, despite the fact that it shouldn't have felt a thing. Witches, wizards, and magical creatures all tended to be aware when any magic was used upon them, but muggles and nonmagical creatures such as parrots lacked the sensitivity necessary to detect any spell that didn't have a direct effect upon them. There was one exception, though.

"Not a pet, I should think."

"What?"

"I do not think this bird was a pet; I think it was a familiar. It sensed my diagnostic charm, and familiars, even familiars of species that are not inherently magical, develop a sensitivity to magic over time." He shook his head slightly. What was it to him where the bird had come from? The diagnostic had revealed that the injury to the left wing, most likely a bad bruise or a mild sprain, was all but healed now as far as Snape could tell. "In any case, I doubt your assistance will be necessary. The bones and ligaments in the wing are structurally sound, and any residual soreness should fade in a day or two. Although it would be painful, he could probably fly off now without any ill effects."

Before Hagrid could respond to Snape's prognosis, the bird made another noise, this one rather cheerful sounding, and then spread its wings and launched itself into flight. Snape watched as the parrot flew over Hagrid's garden to land in full view in a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid sighed and Snape wondered if he was disappointed to not have a chance to nurse the creature to health. It was quite an interesting specimen, he had to admit, and definitely not a species he had ever encountered before. The bird looked to be about two feet from head to tail and was pitch black save for a large patch of red between eye and beak. It also had a large crest of pointed feathers that were now raised, giving it the appearance of a muggle teenager wearing a mohawk. It screamed twice, bobbed in place a few times, and then settled down to preen its feathers.

"'S almost like he heard yeh, professor. Takin' off like he did righ' after yeh said he could."

"Indeed," Snape said with a slight sneer. The thought had occurred to him as well, and it was possible that his words had been understood if the creature had indeed been a familiar at one time. However, that wasn't important; his business here was done, and he had work to attend to. He collected the jar of horklumps, thanked Hagrid once again, and took his leave.

On the walk back up to the castle, not forgetting that one reason for bearing the heat was to dispel rumors of his vampiric nature, he took special care to scowl at as many students as possible save those from Slytherin, with whom he exchanged polite nods and greetings. He was nearly to the castle doors when, with no more warning than a brief flutter of feathers and a dark blur in his peripheral vision, the black parrot swooped down on him and settled itself on the arm that was holding the horklump jar.

Blast! Given the number of students around he had best react carefully, or there would be days of suppressed sniggering to endure. He directed his best sneer at the bird. "What do you think you are doing?"

Undaunted, the parrot rubbed the side of its beak against his arm, raised its crest halfway, bobbed its head and said, in an impressive imitation of Hagrid, "Hello!"

"Wicked familiar, professor!"

Snape turned a glare on the student unwise enough to address him.

"He is not my familiar, Mr. Weasley." His tone would have scared off most students, but the second Weasley child was apparently made of sterner stuff. If Snape hadn't been irritated with the second year's gall, he might have been impressed. Then again, as bravery was a Gryffindor trait, perhaps not.

"How'd you get him to come to you, sir? I've seen him about Hagrid's the last few days. Wouldn't let anyone near him: not Hagrid, not Professor Kettleburn, no one. Except, apparently, you." The boy cast a longing glance at the parrot, leading Snape to wonder just how many hours the child had devoted to trying to coax the bird out of its hiding place. Charlie Weasley had a reputation nearly as bad as Hagrid's when it came to taking in stray or injured animals and attempting to nurse them back to health.

Shifting the pot to his other arm, he held the other out in a clear invitation. "I have no need of a familiar. Perhaps you would like him?"

To his surprise, the young Weasley shook his head and backed up a step. "You might not have chosen him for your familiar, professor, but I think he's chosen you as his wizard. He won't stay with me."

The bird bobbed its head at this, make a noise that sounded like agreement, and then began to sidle up Snape's arm. Before he could stop it, the creature was perched on his shoulder, the top of its head level with his own.

Charlie Weasley smiled at the sight, nodded as though satisfied with his assessment, and then ran toward a huddle of Gryffindors watching from a safe distance. Somehow, Snape vowed, the next time he saw the annoying child in class, he would take points.

But now he had a more immediate concern. There was a two-foot tall parrot with a beak nearly the size of his fist perched on his shoulder. Turning his head to get a better look at the parrot, which had begun to preen his hair of all things, he growled, "Get down from there."

Twisting his arm up, he attempted to unseat the creature. He succeeded in getting the bird off his shoulder, but only because the annoying thing had hopped onto his forearm. Extending the arm quickly with a slight twist, he boosted the animal into flight, and then strode back to the castle doors. Before he could reach them, however, the parrot had circled back around, landing on his shoulder once again, hitting Snape in the back of the head with its wing in the process.

"I am not going to be rid of you, am I?" he asked, with a sigh.

"Hello!" the bird agreed, leaning into Snape's head for a moment before resuming pulling strands of hair through its beak.

He knew that Charlie Weasley was quite right that familiars, like wands, could choose their wizard. Given the bird's quick return to him just now, he suspected that the boy was also correct to assert that this was what had happened. Being chosen by a familiar was uncommon, and when it did occur there was little the human involved could do to separate themselves from their new companion save killing the animal in question, and that was something no witch or wizard in their right mind would do. Having a familiar choose you was powerful magic. Snape just hadn't known it was also so irritating. He shook his head. At least the animal that had chosen him was intimidating. He smirked, remembered how while he was at school a boy in Ravenclaw, an irritating prat who was nearly as arrogant as James Potter, had been chosen by a puffskein. Jonas was never quite able to maintain his high and mighty attitude to the same standard after that point.

Snape supposed he should feel honored, and on some level he did. But he had become a man of habit, allowing the familiar rhythm of his days to soothe away the horrors and uncertainty that had followed him for so long first as a Death Eater and then as a spy. A parrot as a familiar would disrupt his routine, and Snape was inclined to resent that disruption at the moment. Once a new routine had been established, then he might be gracious enough to acknowledge the honor the bird had done him.

Resigned, he entered the castle with the bird on his shoulder, wondering if he could teach it to call his students dunderheads and shout about detentions and point deductions.

* * *

 **AN: The bird we're dealing with is a Palm Cockatoo. There's a link to a picture on my profile. Or you could just Google it.**


	3. A Visit

Snape noted each and every odd look that came his way as he walked down to the dungeons with the large parrot perched firmly on his shoulder. Astonishment and surprise were allowable. Fear was acceptable as well. But the glint of mischief he caught here and there, that was to be quashed as soon as possible. Although he did not feel himself bonded to the bird, certainly not to the same extent that the bird had bonded to him, he would not tolerate any attacks upon it. He would need to let it be known, and soon, that the animal was not simply a pet but a familiar. An attack upon a familiar was treated by law and custom as severely as an attack upon the witch or wizard themselves, and he doubted any of the mischief makers would be willing to risk expulsion or Azkaban.

Though it was not the most direct path to his office, Snape had chosen to walk past the kitchens so that he might request some temporary supplies—he would need send an owl order soon for some of his own—and some food from the elves for his new familiar. The bustle of the kitchens startled the bird, who flapped his wings and let out a scream of irritation, crest held high.

"Calm yourself," Snape said, reaching up to lightly scratch the bird's breast feathers, hardly realizing it was the first time he had voluntarily touched his new familiar. "It is loud and disorganized, but no one will harm you here." Whether it was his voice or his touch he did not know, but the bird calmed enough to fold his wings back and stop screaming. The crest stayed raised, though.

Thinking of the parrot's probable reaction to things materializing in front of him without warning, Snape addressed the elf in front of him. "It might be a good idea to bring the things to my door and knock rather than delivering them directly."

"Yes, Professor Snape, sir," the elf agreed, bowing low.

A few minutes later he was settled in his office, the parrot standing on an old owl perch the house elves had found in the attics and eating from a bowl of chopped fruits and vegetables.

"I cannot keep calling you 'the bird' or 'he' now can I? If you were a familiar, I'd wager you already had a name, did you not?" The bird looked up from the apple slice held in one foot but did not answer.

"Do you not want to go by your old name? Or can you not say it? I've only heard you say 'hello.'"

"Hello," echoed the bird, this time not in Hagrid's voice but rather the voice of a child. "Pretty bird."

"Yes, well, pretty is not exactly the adjective I would have chosen."

The bird fluffed its feathers, and then, with great care, chose a carrot out of its food bowl and flung it in Snape's general direction. The projectile vegetable landed some feet away.

Snape felt his lips twitch in amusement. Oh yes, the creature understood at least some English. "I _was_ going to say intimidating or regal, but if you prefer pretty…"

This got no response.

"Back to the task at hand. What is your name?"

"Boy!" the bird shouted shouted, this time in a deep bass voice. "Stop that!"

The bird's vocabulary and his range of voices were beginning to impress Snape.

"I see. Well, if you will not tell me your name, perhaps you can help me choose a new one. This bears some thinking about."

There was Nyx, goddess of night. But Snape had already begun to think of the bird as a he. If he was going to have a name, Snape felt it should accurately reflect the bird's sex. If he had been paying enough attention to the diagnostic charm earlier he would already know, but at that time he had been focused on deciphering the injury. He would have to cast it again.

Raising his wand, he began the incantation and then paused, remembering the bird's sensitivity to magic. "I am going to cast a spell on you, the same one I used earlier. It won't hurt, but it might tingle a bit," he said, feeling a bit foolish. It struck him as simultaneously natural and ridiculous to speak to the parrot as though every word would be understood. Snape was not about to let himself become one of those people who held entire conversations with animals.

The charm revealed that the bird was indeed male. It, no, _he_ , was also slightly over five years old, although that number could hardly be trusted since the spell was designed with human physiology in mind. Other values, such as weight and body composition Snape could not interpret without much greater knowledge of the species, but the creature looked healthy enough, so he shrugged that off.

The question of sex solved, he could focus on a name. Most of the night related deities he could recall were goddesses. There were a few gods associated with the moon, but he could not name the great black bird after that pale orb. Apep? No, he was not only a god of darkness but of evil as well. That might impress his Slytherins, but he had enough associations with evil already to wish for any more. Varuna was god of the sky, which would work for a parrot, but Varuna had no association with night or darkness. Morpheus, god of dreams? Or better, Phobetor, god of nightmares; he thought the black and red coloration of his familiar might inspire nightmares in some of his more sensitive students. Possibly Erebus, god of darkness, born of Chaos. Yes, he liked that one. But would the bird?

"Erebus?" he tried out loud, liking how the name sounded. The bird, who was now methodically picking pieces of tomato out of his bowl and tossing them on the floor, paused for a moment, and then dropped the tomato it had just picked up.

"I do not know if that was a yes or a no. Would you prefer Morpheus?" he paused. "No? How about Phobetor?" Another pause. "Varuna?" He watched closely, but the bird did not respond to any of the names.

"Come here, Varuna," he tried, holding out his arm. Nothing. "Morpheus, come." The parrot selected an orange slice and bit into it. "Erebus, come here." Still holding the orange, the bird jumped from its perch and landed on Snape's arm.

"That settles it. Erebus it is." He stroked the bird's back, careful of the wing that his diagnostic scan suggested was still a bit sore. Erebus bit again into the orange, squirting juice into Snape's face.

"I suppose it would be too much to expect you to have some manners."

"Clean up this mess, boy!" the bird agreed in a commanding female voice, dropping the mangled remains of the orange slice onto Snape's lap.

H~*~P

Snape had not considered what he would do with his familiar the following day, but it seemed Erebus had decided opinions on the matter. As soon as Snape approached the door to his quarters, the great bird flew to his shoulder and clung there, refusing to remove to his perch.

The noise in the great hall at breakfast was not as cacophonous as it would be during lunch and dinner, too many students were half asleep to create the chaos typical of later in the day, yet it was still worse than the kitchens had been the previous day. Erebus reacted as badly as Snape feared he would, taking wing almost instantly to circle the room, flying high enough to bump into the enchanted ceiling at least twice, and screaming his displeasure as loudly as he could. This shocked most of the students enough that silence fell.

"That's enough, Erebus. The students are now properly in awe of you, I am sure" Snape drawled for all to hear, holding out his arm. The bird gave one last scream and then completed one more circuit of the Great Hall before landing heavily on Snape's arm.

"Hello!" the bird yelled, and then executed a little bounce, dropping his head down to the level of Snape's arm in a move that might be taken for a bow.

A few students chuckled, and gradually conversation resumed.

Meanwhile, Snape sat and went about fixing his breakfast. It was only out of long habit at concealing his thoughts from others that he was able to succeed at schooling his face not to show the amusement he felt at the reactions around him. His colleagues were more circumspect than the gaping students, but he caught the numerous glances in his direction when they thought he would not see. It was, predictably, a Gryffindor who broke the silence.

"I did not know you intended to acquire a familiar, Severus."

"I did not, Minerva. Erebus acquired me."

An expression he could not read flashed across her face—chagrin, maybe, or envy—before she graced him with a smile. "It is a great honor to be chosen."

Erebus hopped down from Snape's arm onto the staff table, knocking over an empty goblet. He then walked directly across Professor McGonagall's breakfast before jumping into the serving platter of eggs and beginning to eat.

"Yes, I can see how it would be considered an honor," Snape responded dryly. He nearly had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the looks of horror on the faces around him. "Erebus, show some decorum, would you. Come here and let me get you your own plate." Snape matched actions to words, putting a selection of foods onto a saucer and placing it in front of his own place setting. This seemed to suit the parrot well enough, as he left off his attack on the serving platters and tucked in to the eggs and potatoes Snape had offered.

Dumbledore arrived then, customary smile in place, if looking rather fixed.

Next to him, McGonagall muttered something and the next instant he felt the somewhat confining pressure that came from being within a privacy ward. Sprout and Flitwick had noticed as well judging by their sudden attention to the transfiguration professor. "Has there been any news on Mr. Potter?" she asked.

Erebus looked up from his food and shook his head, scattering the bits of food that had clung to his beak.

Dumbledore brushed a piece potato out of his beard and sighed, his smile faltering. "I know the boy is still alive, but my location spells have continued to fail. The only recent development is the weakening of the wards. They had been stable until earlier this week, now they are near collapse."

A sharp intake of breath by Sprout echoed Snape's own sentiments. Those wards were important.

"I still think those muggles know more than they have told," Flitwick insisted.

"I never thought they would be good for the boy," McGonagall agreed.

Dumbledore shook his head, but it was Snape who spoke. "No. I questioned them myself, and they would not have been able to lie to me. They have no more idea of how he left their house than we do."

Snape recalled the night Dumbledore had discovered the Potter child's disappearance and how he had been summoned to interrogate the muggles while the headmaster began the search. He had not used enough legilimency to see the memory of the evening in question directly, feeling it beneath him to enter Petuna's mind, or the mind of any muggle for that matter unless it absolutely necessary, but just a touch of legilimency was sufficient to know that they were telling the truth. Wherever Harry Potter was now, the Dursleys did not know where that was or how he had gotten there.

After that, Snape had spent a large part of the summer seeking information from his more disreputable contacts, talking to dealers in illegal potions and former Death Eaters alike. None had given him any reason to suspect they knew the whereabouts of the Boy-Who-Lived, which was both a relief and worrisome. If Potter had been kidnapped by someone in the wizarding world, they would at least have a clue and a much narrower group of people to investigate, but if it were the work of muggles, the boy could be _anywhere_. On the other hand, a muggle could not have concealed the child so well that Albus could not locate him. It was, he supposed, possible that the child's own accidental magic was responsible for the concealment, but why would it hide him for such an extended period rather than reach out for help? It was a mystery, and Severus Snape did not like mysteries that resisted solving.

Dumbledore, looking more weary than Snape had ever seen him, canceled McGonagall's privacy wards and changed the subject, inquiring about Erebus, who had sidled over to drink from the old wizard's teacup and was now snitching a piece of fruit from the headmaster's plate. Snape answered, more out of respect for his mentor than a desire to discuss his sudden acquisition of an ill-behaved familiar. Privacy wards notwithstanding, Harry Potter's disappearance was not something that should be discussed at the breakfast table. Not if they wanted to continue hiding it from the ministry.

H~*~P

Months passed, and Dumbledore's attempts to locate the Boy Who Was Missing grew increasingly desperate. The other day he had attempted to use a school owl to send the boy a letter, thinking maybe an owl could do better than his own location charms. To no one's great surprise, the owl had returned the next morning, dropping the missive on the staff table nearly knocking Erebus over in the process.

Thus it happened that Snape was sent back to Privet Drive, this time with Dumbledore's explicit permission to use legilimency to whatever extent necessary to discover the full truth.

Snape decided to bring Erebus with him. The parrot's presence would annoy Petunia, he knew, and the very thought prompted his lips to twist into a vicious smirk. Of course that was the reason Erebus would accompany him, Snape firmly told himself, it wasn't at all that he had grown quite used to his familiar's company and did not wish to be parted from him.

He knocked on the door and Petunia opened it, surprise and then anger crossing her face as she took in her uninvited guest. Or guests, rather.

"Go away," Petunia said, snarling and attempting to slam the door on him. He caught it before the latch could catch and forced it back open.

"I assure you, I am quite capable of standing on your doorstep until your neighbors have enough gossip to last them until summer," he drawled, his voice low and menacing. "I think it would be best to continue this conversation indoors, do you not agree? Erebus here can get quite loud when he senses that I am displeased."

"Detention," the bird said in a passable imitation of Snape's deadly tones. Snape had to bite back a laugh.

Petunia stepped back to let them in with considerable reluctance, flicking a contemptuous glance at Erebus but making no further objection to the bird's presence.

Although she did not invite him to sit, he did so, settling onto the hideous floral-patterned sofa and forcing himself to appear at ease, knowing that his casual attitude would further annoy Petunia. Erebus stepped from his shoulder onto the back of the sofa and eyed the woman with his inscrutable gaze, wings half-spread as though ready to fly at the least provocation.

"The investigation into the disappearance of your nephew is continuing, and I have some further questions for you."

She shook her head. "We already told you everything we know. We left the house for the night, with the boy in his room, and when we returned he was gone."

"But that does not answer the question of why you left a four year-old unattended in the first place."

"He was asleep in his room, and the neighbor was keeping an eye on the house for us. What trouble could he have gotten into?"

"Quite a bit, obviously, as he was no longer here when you returned." Snape said.

Erebus hissed and then bit into the couch, his overlarge beak tearing quite a large hole in the fabric. Snape narrowed his eyes at Petunia when she began to object, and she fell silent.

"Leaving the matter of your negligence aside for the moment, we must address the matter of how he was removed from your home. No magic hostile towards Mr. Potter could have been performed on the property, so he must have been taken by mundane means. You claim there was no evidence of forced entry or of a struggle, one or both of which you would expect had he been forcibly abducted.

"Even if he had been overpowered, the child's magic would likely have risen up in an attempt to protect him, yet not a single thing was out of place, despite the tendency of defensive magic of that sort to cause a bit of a mess. You have received no ransom and nor have we. There has not been even a whisper of his disappearance in my world, and believe me, if a wizard had stolen Harry Potter away, it would be inconceivable that they could keep it quiet for this long. To put it bluntly, we believe you are still withholding information crucial to our search."

Erebus had widened his hole in the upholstery and was now pulling out pieces of foam. Petunia stared at the bird with undisguised irritation and, to Snape's practiced eye, was not paying as much attention to the conversation as she should have been.

"Then perhaps he was not taken," she suggested, managing to imply that Snape was an idiot for not reaching that conclusion himself.

"You suggest the child ran away?" He had considered the notion several times, but never seriously. The child was four, well five now, as his birthday had passed since his disappearance. How could a child of that age survive alone and undiscovered for so long? More importantly why would Potter have run from his home? He addressed this last question to Petunia.

Petuna shrugged, though to Snape's practiced eye the tension of the gesture belied its implications of nonchalance. "You expect a normal person to be able to fathom the way your kind thinks? We took him in, fed him, clothed him, and cared for him, and not once was he anything but ungrateful."

Erebus left off his destruction of the sofa. "Shut up!" he yelled, followed by a wordless scream at the horse-faced woman. Then he jumped off the couch and ran towards the hall in the waddling way parrots have moving on the ground.

Snape felt a surge of anger and it took him a moment to realize that the emotion was not solely his own. He probed at that corner of his mind, eyes widening when he realized that the surge of emotion had come from his familiar. Had they bonded so extensively as to permit empathy? It was a rare occurrence, and unheard of in the first few months of being bonded.

He stood, putting off contemplation of this development until another time. For now it was more important to acknowledge the familiar's feelings and instincts. Without a word, Snape followed and saw the bird standing in front of the door to a cupboard set under the stairs, crest fully raised and attempting to chew the door to splinters. Erebus looked at him and then in a movement too deliberate for a normal parrot, one not attuned to and enhanced by association with magic, leaned forward and screamed at the door repeatedly.

Anger. Fear. Hatred. Hopelessness. Snape fairly reeled at the swirl of emotions coming through the bond now. He was forced to occlude before he could take another step lest he risk his knees buckling beneath him.

Sympathetic magic, it must be. The parrot must have some sensitivity to the residual emotions of the home.

"Shut up!" Petunia screamed, making Snape aware that he had not moved for several seconds. "Control that bloody nuisance."

Snape glared at her, and Erebus ignored the woman completely. He only stopped screaming when Snape set his hand on the latch to the cupboard.

"What are you doing?" Petuna said. Snape heard the anger in her voice, but also the fear beneath it.

"I am opening the cupboard." Why did people make a habit of asking questions with obvious answers? Why did he bother answering?

"I did not give you permission to poke about my home."

"No, and I do not intend to ask for it. Do not even think of interfering." The coldness of his tone froze Petunia in place, and he smirked at her before returning his attention to the door.

It opened to reveal…

A storage cupboard. He crouched down to inspect it, but saw only brooms, cleaning products, dust rags, a bucket, and the usual detritus of maintaining a clean house.

He made to close the door when Erebus hopped forward into the tiny room and picked something up out of the dusty corner. A muggle toy, he saw, when Erebus hopped back and dropped it into his outstretched hand. A cheap plastic toy solder missing an arm. Not something that belonged in a cleaning cupboard, certainly, but a discarded toy of this size might wind up anywhere. He shot a curious glance at his familiar, and then focused on the space again. Something had led the bird here.

Stretching his senses to their fullest, he felt it, there at the edge of his awareness there was the sense of magic. Magic had been performed in this space, often enough to leave a faint trace months after the only magical resident of the house had left. Had the Potter boy spent time in here amid the dust and harsh-smelling chemicals?

He lit his wand and peered closer. Yes, there was something. There in the back corner where the one bare bulb cast only shadows, were several childish crayon drawings and above them, in very shaky letters, "Harrys Room."

No. Not even Petunia would…

He stopped that thought right there. The time he had spent in service to the Dark Lord had taught him not to underestimate the depths one could sink to in the name of hatred, power, or fear.

"Thank you, Erebus," he said, stroking the bird's back before offering his arm as a perch. With practiced grace he stood, fixing his dark eyes on Petunia. "Tell me, Tuney, did you give the child cause to wish to leave your…care?"

"No. We gave him food and clothing and a space in our home, as I said earlier."

A lie, followed by half-truths. Likely not the first she had told today; he ought to have been paying better attention. Snape sighed; he had not wanted to enter Petunia's mind, but there was nothing for it. He stepped closer and casst _legilimens_ wordlessly, soon immersed in memory images and the emotions attached to them.

 _A child in a basket on the front steps, accompanied by nothing more than a letter insisting that he be cared for. Who did that sort of thing? To just expect her to take in the child of those, those, good for nothing freaks! But then that letter suggested she would be in danger if they didn't. It was too much! She knew Lily ought never have listened to that Snape boy and gone to that crazy school._

The scene shifted

 _Harry Potter standing up in his crib and screaming. Would the boy never stop screaming? Dudley never screamed like this, as soon as Dudly had a sucker he would be quiet. Harry didn't want a sucker and had thrown it down. Fine, she needent waste her money on treats for the child. He wasn't hers, after all._

" _Be quiet, boy!" a fat man yelled over his shoulder, not bothering to stand up or even avert his eyes from the telly. Petunia, her arms occupied with her own son, joined her husband on the couch, raising the volume to drown out the cries of "Mama! Wan' Mama! Wan' Dada!" coming from the corner._

Another shift.

 _Harry was older now, maybe three or four, and his green eyes were filled with wonder as his cousin opened present after present. Vernon was wholly engaged in watching his son, but Petunia kept half an eye on Harry, lest the boy be allowed to spoil the family's Christmas. Dudley threw away shred of red paper covered with smiling snowmen as he tore at the wrapping around a new toy truck, complete with flashing lights and sirens. Harry picked up the paper, staring at it with undisguised longing for a moment. And then he giggled. Petunia looked more closely and gasped. The snowmen on the paper were dancing and waving._

" _Vernon," she called, a tremor in her voice as she snatched the paper away and showed it to her husband._

 _The man growled and threw the paper into the fireplace, ignoring Harry's cry. "I'll have none of this…this funny business in my home, do you hear me. None." He grabbed Harry by the arm and half walked, half dragged the confused child to the hall, all but throwing him onto the small mattress on the cupboard floor. "No supper for you, and you're to stay in there for the next week unless you're doing chores."_

Scarcely willing to believe what he was seeing, Snape grabbed for another memory.

 _Petunia carried the vase of flowers into the parlor, placing it just so on the mantle. One of Vernon's more important clients was coming to dinner tonight, and everything needed to be perfect. As she walked back down the hall to the kitchen to check on the roast, she heard a quiet whimper from under the stairs. "Hush now," she scolded. "You're to be absolutely silent when our guests are here, and you might as well begin practicing now." With that, she slid the ventilation grate closed, muffling the cries that had only intensified at her harsh words. He would settle down by the time Vernon arrived home. He always did._

Snape broke the connection. There were more memories, he was sure, but he had seen enough to ascertain the likely truth. Harry Potter had more than sufficient incentive to flee Privet Drive accounting for much of the lack of evidence. Furthermore, their inability to find him could be explained by accidental magic. If the child feared being found and forced back into this house, his magic could have chosen to make him impossible to find. Until the spell dissipated, if it ever did, their efforts would be in vain.

Troublesome child. This was a stunt worthy of James Potter…

No, that wasn't true. James Potter had been a spoiled brat of the first order. From what he had seen, Harry's upbringing was more similar to Snape's own than to the elder Potter's. Absentmindedly, he stroked Erebus, who was still perched on his arm. Never would he have believed himself capable of feeling empathy for James Potter's son. But the boy was only James's son in blood, not in upbringing or in manner. When the child was found, he vowed he would not forget that.

Until then, he could only offer his support to the headmaster's efforts to locate the boy and secure his safety.

"What…what did you do to me?" Petunia asked, snapping him out of his musings.

"Nothing compared to what will soon happen, I assure you." He felt his magic surging within him, begging for release. And something more as well. With a start, he realized that once again the something more was coming from Erebus. Now the bond was sending magic as well as emotions! He could feel the bird's energy brushing up against his own, sharing in his eagerness for retribution. Nothing had prepared him, though, for the sheer amount of power he felt from the creature. It was unfocused power, but power all the same. With this much magic at his disposal, the Dursley's could be left as little more than a pile of ashes scattering to the four winds. And it was tempting, oh, so very tempting to deliver vengeance for Lily's son.

A deep breath. Then another. And another. Finally Snape felt his magic come back under his control. "I was sent here to collect information, not as an instrument of justice. But I assure you, justice will come." Not trusting his control any further, he spun on his heel and apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts. Dumbledore would need his report.

* * *

 **AN: I'm eager to hear your thoughts. How long do you think it'll take to find Harry?**


	4. Lessons in Potions

Severus Snape was a man of habit, of dull routine that others would call boring but which he found reassuring. To some extent, he had managed to establish a new routine since being chosen by Erebus. However, life with a parrot could never approach what any normal human, be they magic or muggle, would call normal. Snape expected his life now resembled something like living with a toddler who loved to scream. A toddler with a beak that could crush chicken bones with the same ease of a human snapping a twig. A toddler who could _fly_.

Leaving Erebus alone in a room was a surefire way to ensure that something was destroyed when he returned. That was made clear early on, when one day Snape had returned from a staff meeting to find his sitting room had been ransacked. Quills, papers, and books had all at one point felt the tender attentions of the powerful beak, and Erebus was standing in the middle of it looking not one bit abashed. "Hello!" the bird greeted him with a cheerful bob of his head.

It had been all Snape could do not to release his temper. In truth, he did not know what impulse had held him back from anything more than a few stern words and a disappointed glare, but hold back he had. At that point Erebus had retreated to his perch and watched in silence as Snape cleaned up his quarters, grumbling below his breath from time to time. Most of the papers had been salvageable, thank Merlin, but at least one book had been beyond repair, leading Snape to ward his bookshelves so that the bird could not touch the books. Later that evening, Erebus had been more than usually affectionate, snuggling up to the potions master and alternating between demanding caresses and preening Snape's hair, leaving the man grateful for his earlier restraint.

After that, Snape allowed his familiar to accompany him wherever he went as the surest way to prevent another such incident. He even procured another perch for his classroom so that Erebus would have a place to sit rather than having to balance on Snape's arm or shoulder for the entire class.

The bird's antics often made up for the frustration he engendered, although Snape was careful to hide most of his amusement from his students and colleagues. He picked up on phrases quickly, often ones Snape did not even realize he had been using often enough to inspire mimicry. "Five points to Slytherin," was a favorite as was the low and menacing, "Detention!" which had been among the first new additions to his vocabulary. Erebus had lately taken to sneaking up behind unsuspecting students in the Great Hall and saying the latter. Then, after the student had whirled around in fright, the bird would laugh—a sound he most definitely did not pick up from Snape—and fly away.

Sometimes, Erebus even managed to give a detention that was justified. For example, one afternoon when a disgruntled Hufflepuff had been caught muttering under his breath that Erebus and Snape were destined for each other because, "…the bird has a schnoz nearly as big as Snape's." Erebus had assigned detention and then turned around and with the appearnce of great deliberation, pooped on the student's homework. Snape, feeling no pity for the insulting miscreant, made it two detentions and insisted the homework be recopied onto clean parchment before being turned in.

But for all that the bird apparently took pleasure in frightening students with the idea of detention, Erebus had a hatred for bullies. He would fly at older students who looked to be picking on younger ones, or at groups of students who ganged up on an individuals, as often as not screaming "Detention," "No," or "Stop that!" and taking points, although not always from the correct house. It made Snape proud to see that his familiar was helping to prevent the same kind of torment he had suffered at the hands of the Marauders. Proud, that is, until Erebus's ire turned on him.

It was near the end of the spring term of their second year together, and students were becoming frantic in their preparation for the end of year exams. This, predictably, led to dangerous mistakes while brewing. One Hufflepuff, a habitually poor student whom Snape had given up on as hopeless with potions, somehow managed to melt a cauldron of Cooling Concoction, sending the practically molten liquid coursing through the room, incinerating anything organic that it came into contact with.

Once Snape had vanished the mess and ensured the safety of the rest of the class, he turned on the miscreant, ignoring the apologies he was barely able to distinguish through the child's sobs. "Idiot child," he began, pleased to see the child flinch and lean away from him. "Detention Mr. McCleary, and be thankful it is not expulsion. Where you _trying_ to kill all your classmates? Never have I been forced to deal with a more incompetent—" The rest of his rant was cut off by Erebus, who landed on his shoulder screaming loudly and cuffing him about the head with his powerful wings.

"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you!" he cried, turning his head to look at his enraged familiar. "Settle down," he instructed, reaching up to stroke the parrot's back in a way that normally worked to soothe him. Instead of submitting to the calming touch, Erebus screamed again, leaning forward to place his beak right next to Snape's ear as he did so, and then twisted about and bit Snape's finger. Hard. The pain was enough to interrupt Snape's previous train of thought, and only then did he realize that the source of Erebus's upset was himself.

"Everybody out. Now!" he commanded, vanishing the remaining potions and glaring about at the students. "Mr. McCleary," he snapped out before the still-tearful Hufflepuff could leave the room with the rest of the fleeing children, "I will see you in this room tonight at seven."

The room finally empty, Snape strode up to his desk and collapsed in his chair as Erebus flew to his perch and eyed Snape. The look made him feel as though he had been measured and found wanting, a sensation he had not experienced in some time. He had come to care for the bird, it was true, but he was not about to let Erebus dictate how he taught his class. He scolded his familiar quite fiercely and then forgot about the incident.

Only Ereubus seemed intent on reminding him. Over the next two weeks several similar scenes played out, with Erebus interrupting a number of promising tirades, biting Snape in the ear once and tearing a great hole in his teaching robes another time. It was after the fifth such incident that Snape finally connected Erebus's behavior of late with how the parrot reacted to incidents of bullying.

After dismissing the class, Snape had retreated to his office to ponder the change in his familiar's behavior. Erebus, for his part, was sulking on his perch near the fire, probably because Snape had once again scolded the bird for his interference. While he did not like being at odds with his familiar, not least because he could feel the bird's hurt and anger through their bond, he was grateful that he would have the opportunity to think without interruption.

Until the incident with Mr. McCleary, Erebus had never bitten him hard enough to break the skin before. The worst he had gotten was friendly nips or a warning in the form of firm pressure. For all of Erebus's poor manners in matters such as stealing food, the only time he had attacked anyone had been in defense of another person. And now he had begun attacking Snape in defense of students. A hot flush spread through Snape's body, tinging his sallow cheeks red. He was strict, it was true, but he would never, _never_ , raise a hand or a wand to a student. None of the children would have endured more than a tongue lashing and a detention scrubbing cauldrons or the floor or preparing foul potions ingredients.

So why did Erebus act as though he were about to harm his students? A traitorous thought wormed its way through his mind and froze him where he sat.

There is more than one way to harm a child.

Had he, in fact, become one of the bullies he abhorred? Snape was not a nice man, that much he knew. He kept tight control over his classroom in part for the safety of his students and in part because he disliked the childish antics the children would get up to otherwise. Beyond his general discomfort with unnecessary and ill-timed frivolity, he also detested the arrogance and bullying often displayed. That was fine, but taking pleasure in causing the children to fear him was not, and he could not deny that he did so.

Bile rose as he realized how similar his behavior was to that of the Dark Lord, in spirit if not in deed. The Dark Lord had not simply killed his victims but had tortured them. He had not tortured them because he needed to extract information or even to inspire fear in other—Snape could have understood, if not condoned, either motivation. No, the Dark Lord and his followers had tortured their victims simply because they delighted in causing pain. It had been one of the first things that made him uncomfortable about his service to Lord Voldemort, though not, he remembered, uncomfortable enough to stop attempting to curry favor or to attempt to leave.

He was disgusted with his own behavior. True, Snape needed to command immediate obedience to prevent injuries, and he also needed to maintain his cover as a spy, but he should not allow himself to relish the thought of seeing a child shrink back in fear of him. Was he not clever enough to correct a student and make them aware of the seriousness of their mistake without resulting to petty name calling? He might still inspire fear in some of his students, but he need not revel in the fact.

Snape roused himself from his contemplation to see that Erebus was still sulking, but had at least turned to observe him, the bird's dark eyes unwavering and intent. "I owe you my thanks, Erebus, and my apologies." The cockatoo's crest rose slightly; he was listening. "Your interference these last weeks has been justified, and it was my own fault for not recognizing that fact. I intend that you will never again have cause to do so, but should I falter, I hope you will not hesitate to correct me."

He held out his arm and Erebus few over, which Snape interpreted to mean he had accepted the apology. Indeed, the bird promptly hopped down onto Snape's lap and leaned against the man's chest, clicking his tongue against his beak in the way Snape had come to realize signified contentedness.

"You're a good boy, Erebus, and I do not deserve you," Snape confessed, so quietly that anyone more than a foot away would not have heard. Erebus clicked his beak, this time in apparent irritation, and snuggled further into Snape's robes.

"Good boy. Good boy, Erebus," the bird crooned.

H~*~P

Meanwhile the search for Harry Potter continued. Snape was not often called upon to take an active role these days; what few hints and whispers they heard were mostly people claiming to friends to have met the boy, and the stories were without fail fabrications.

That didn't bother Snape in the least. After concluding that the Dursleys had neglected the young boy, he had resolved that when Harry Potter come to Hogwarts he would treat the boy the same as any other student and would rein in any tendency to project his own dislike of James Potter on the boy. However, his resolve not to dislike Potter despite his parentage did not extend so far as to not find random interruptions to his routine rather annoying. Especially as they required him to go haring off to the corners of the country chasing down what were invariably false leads.

No, what bothered Snape was the fact that the Dursleys had not been adequately punished. Worse, they had not been punished at all. Dumbledore had forbidden any act of retribution or harassment against the Dursleys.

"It must not become common knowledge that Harry Potter is missing," he insisted. "Any legal action against them would alert the world, any other action would be illegal. If they took it into their heads to complain to the ministry…"

Snape had sneered, "You believe me incapable of subterfuge, Headmaster? I would not leave them any reason to think that magic was involved."

"The risk is not worth the reward. It is best to wait until we can take the matter to the aurors."

"So you would wait until we find the child, or he is killed, to act on his behalf?"

"Everything I do is on his behalf, Severus."

Snape had longed to continue the discussion, but Dumbledore had dismissed him. One could rarely prevail against Albus Dumbledore, and more often than not when someone did carry their point it was only because the manipulative old coot had intended them to do so all along.

If Dumbledore was protecting the Dursleys, he no doubt had a reason beyond what he had shared. As far as Snape could see, however, that family could only be of use to Dumbledore in one way, and it was not one Snape would support. Snape owed his survival to well-honed instincts and a talent for reading situations. He now found himself in the unwelcome position of hoping that his instincts were failing.

H~*~P

It was the following year that Snape realized that he had still been underestimating his familiar's intelligence. It was now over two years since Erebus had chosen him, and from the beginning of the term, the bird had become increasingly troublesome during classes. Without warning he would abandon his perch to fly about the room, landing on students' desks, upsetting ingredients and screaming "Dunderhead!" at the top of his formidable avian lungs.

Thrice now Snape had scolded the bird for making a mess or interfering with a student.

This time Erebus had decided to fly at Robert Hilliard, a first year Ravenclaw who had demonstrated a good sensitivity and aptitude for potions. It was a crucial stage in the brewing, one where several ingredients had to be added in quick succession. The bird landed on the table, grabbed on to the sleeve of Hilliard's robes, and pulled hard enough to make him drop the finely chopped unicorn tail hairs he had been about to add to his potion.

"Oy! What do you think you're doing?" the boy asked, snatching his arm away. Upset though he was, he did not attempt to lash out at the familiar, something Snape noted with approval as he strode up to the work bench.

"Erebus, to me," he said in a tone that brooked no disobedience, giving a sharp nod when the bird stepped onto his arm. Then he looked at the potion and shook his head, it was too late to salvage it. A year or two ago he would have given the boy a zero for the day and been done despite it not being Hilliard's fault, but though it had taken effort—and a few reminders from Erebus—he had taken the lesson on not bullying his students to heart.

"You will have to begin again," he said, flicking his wand to vanish the now ruined brew. "Do you prefer to start now and stay after class or to come tonight at seven?"

"I'll do it now, sir." Hilliard said, not quite hiding his resentment at being forced start from scratch. Snape gave the child a warning glare but did not take points. Hilliard's resentment was not unreasonable and he had tried to suppress it after all. Had Erebus ruined one of his brews in that way, Snape doubted he would be so calm about it.

Satisfied that the situation was settled, Snape carried his familiar to the front of the room, putting him back on his perch. "What is wrong with you, Erebus?" The question came out in a hissing whisper that he hoped none of the students would be able to overhear. "Do I need to leave you in my quarters or office during class? You know better."

Erebus, who was quite capable of looking chagrined when Snape scolded him for things like drinking pumpkin juice from the headmaster's goblet and then knocking it over onto Dumbledore's lap, flattened his crest and hissed before turning his back on the wizard. Snape's eyebrows rose. "Very well, you have made your opinion clear. But if you do not stay on your perch and silent for the remainder of class, I will leave you in my quarters every day for the next week."

As he walked back out among the work benches, he wondered if anyone had ever grounded a parrot before and if it had worked.

Class passed without further incident, leaving only Hilliard who, though efficient, would still need at least another fifteen minutes to complete his potion in Snape's estimation. That time passed in silence but for the incidental noises of brewing or the scratch of Snape's quill on parchment as he graded the essays that had been turned in earlier. Erebus was still, crest lowered and facing away from Snape; he had never seen the bird take a scolding so poorly.

So lost was he in considering the reason for his familiar's unfamiliar behavior that he failed to notice Hilliard had finished until the young Ravenclaw set his bottled potion on the teacher's desk.

"Thank you. You may go, and my apologies for the disruption." Erebus clicked his beak in irritation, but he was still facing away from Snape and could not see the glare his disrespect earned him. "Behave," the potions master chided his familiar.

Snape saw Hilliard's glance flick back and forth between himself and the great parrot as the child shifted nervously. Odd, he had never thought Hilliard particularly felt intimidated by him.

"Er, actually, you needn't apologize for that, sir. In fact, I think I owe your familiar my thanks and an apology."

Snape felt his eyebrows go up at that assertion, but the boy continued before he could formulate a response.

"When I set about preparing the ingredients to start over, I noticed that before I was interrupted, er…that I hadn't added the jewelweed extract yet."

The last bit had come out in a rush and it took Snape a moment to parse out the sentence. He did not bother to suppress the sharp intake of breath as he realized what might have happened had Hilliard added the unicorn hairs to the potion in that state. The boy would not have been the only one injured in the resulting explosion.

"I see," he drawled, his voice taking on a dangerous note. "And what excuse do you have to offer for such carelessness?"

"I was not paying as much attention as I ought, sir. I am sorry."

Snape nodded. He despised excuses, and would only have lowered his estimation of the boy had he not chosen to take responsibility for his actions so stoically. "Very well. I want two feet of parchment on what would have happened should you not have been stopped and what you will do to prevent future incidents of this nature. And you may offer your thanks to Erebus."

"Thank you, Erebus," Hilliard said, offering a formal bow to the now attentive bird. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were stopping me from having to take up residence in the Hospital Wing for the rest of term."

Ah, so the boy did understand the likely results of his error. Good.

For his part, Erebus accepted the apology by bowing in return, lowering his head in what to Snape was a clear request to be pet.

"He is inviting you to scratch his head," Snape informed his student.

"Oh. I couldn't…that is, I wouldn't want to offend…"

"Nonsense. He has requested your attention, how could bestowing it give offense?" He appreciated the child's hesitance, though. Some witches and wizards did take umbrage when others touched their familiar.

Still tentative, Hilliard reached out a hand and gently stroked the bird's head, smoothing over the spiky crest feathers. He repeated the gesture, more sure this time. "I hadn't expected him to be so soft," he whispered, continuing the stroking.

After a minute, Erebus lifted his head, rubbed the side of his beak against Hilliard's hand, and then sidled over to his food bowl and began to eat. He wouldn't have known by the bird's posture, but Snape could feel smugness radiating through their bond.

"Could I," the boy began, but hesitated, only resuming his speech at Snape's nod. "Could I maybe get him a thank you present? Is there some food he likes, or a toy or something?"

Snape felt the corners of his lips twitch but stopped the smile before it became noticeable. That level of deference to another wizard's familiar was generally a sign of great respect for both the animal and the man. "He is well supplied with food from the kitchens, but he is fond of destroying wooden toys," Snape gestured to one such item hanging near the perch, already chewed and splintered almost beyond recognition. "Hagrid made that one, and I am sure he would not object to teaching you how to do the same should you wish to make the attempt."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Professor, Erebus."

Finally alone with his familiar, Snape sat, rather stunned.

Erebus had _intentionally_ and _purposefully_ interfered with a student's brewing thus averting an unqualified disaster. Had all his interferences throughout the term been similarly motivated? To his regret, Snape had to admit that it was likely so, though he could not recall with enough precision to be certain.

"I had not realized you took such an active interest in my field, Erebus, I apologize for not recognizing sooner."

For the first time since he had scolded the parrot, Erebus turned around to face Snape. With his crest mostly raised and his head tilted, he actually managed to look smug. "Good boy, Erebus!" said the bird.

Snape cleared his throat. "Yes, yes. Good boy, Erebus. You know, if you were not so fond of knocking things over during meals, I would not have been as likely to attribute your behavior to your penchant for creating mischief."

The smugness Snape had been feeling from Erebus became moderated with chagrin, and Erebus tilted his head to give Snape a questioning look.

"But you are still a good boy, Erebus," Snape added. He very nearly rolled his eyes at his own sentimentality, but it cheered him to see his familiar's good mood restored so easily. "And from now on you have my approval to interfere with my dunderheaded students whenever you see fit."

A happy bob answered his words, and the bird flew to Snape's outstretched arm. "Good boy! Good boy!" the bird called and then butted Snape's hand to demand attention. He really was fortunate that his familiar was so forgiving.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **-As you've noticed, Snape's attitude is changing a bit from canon at this point (well, a bit last chapter as well, but more here). I hope the motivation for his attitude change is believable.**

 **-What do you think of Erebus paying attention in potions class? And what is Dumbledore up to? Share your thoughts and predictions, I love to see what you think is going on.**


	5. Staff Meeting

**In which Dumbledore has information and Snape is angry (er, angrier than usual)**

* * *

Even with the windows open, the staff room was uncomfortably hot. If he was going to sweat, Snape considered that at the very least it should be due to heat of the flame under a cauldron, but no, his plans for the day had to be put to one side because Dumbledore had summoned him. Snape didn't mind properly planned and scheduled staff meetings, well, at least he didn't mind them any more than he minded the other tedious administrative duties of being a professor and a head of house. He did, however, take issue with receiving a summons with one hour notice to a "Very Important Meeting" with the other heads of house. Either it was so important that it should be tended to immediately lest someone die or it was not important enough to give less than a day's notice. In Snape's opinion, there was nothing in between save those false emergencies caused by carelessness or procrastination, and that he could not abide.

Erebus started making odd grumbling noises and McGonagall snickered. Snape realized only then that he had been muttering under his breath and was now being mocked by his familiar. Even Flitwick and Sprout were smiling, though they, at least, were polite enough to attempt to hide their mirth.

"Very funny," he said, tapping the bird lightly on the beak. Erebus laughed and subsided, though through their bond Snape could feel the smug pleasure Erebus felt at his antics.

He chose a seat next to McGonagall, Erebus stepping off of Snape's shoulder to perch on the chair's high back as he did so, and let the banter of the other professors wash over him. Not wishing to engage in the polite inanities of meaningless small talk, Snape pulled out the book he always kept in his robes as protection against just this sort of awkward situation and began reading about the latest methods in detecting and safely dispatching curses on objects.

"Ah, good, you're all here. "

Snape had not seen Dumbledore enter the room, and it was only his surprise that stopped the sharp, "because we were on time and you were five minutes late," on the tip of his tongue from slipping out. That would have ensured the meeting would get off to an acrimonious start and while Snape might not always see eye to eye with the headmaster of late, that did not mean he was foolish enough to antagonize the powerful wizard without good reason.

"I apologize for interrupting your summer holidays, but I believe it is imperative that we act at once. As you know, I have involved some outside help in searching for our missing Mr. Potter."

Snape refrained from rolling his eyes at the euphemism. 'Outside help' was code for members of the Order of the Phoenix. Flitwick and Sprout were not members and Dumbledore had, in one of his periodic bouts of illogic (or logic he did not care to explain to others, at the very least), decided that they were trustworthy enough to know that Harry Potter was missing and aid in the search for the child, but not trustworthy enough to speak to about the Order. Ridiculous.

"I have good reason to believe that he has been found!" Dumbledore announced, clapping his hands together.

Sprout, to Snape's secret disgust, looked thrilled, and Flitwick squeaked in excitement. McGonagall, however, met Snape's skeptical gaze with one of her own. They had both been sent on too many missions where there was "good reason to believe" that Harry Potter had been located at last. The last time he had been sent out—about eight months ago now—was thanks to a tip received from Mundungus Fletcher. Fletcher, of all people, whom Snape would not trust to tell him the color of the sky on a sunny day, and yet the headmaster considered his word good enough to warrant Snape losing an entire weekend right before the end of term!

As no one else seemed inclined to ask questions, Snape took up the task, speaking with as neutral a tone as he could muster through his wariness. "And what do you require of us?"

"To the point as always, Severus," Dumbledore said, beaming and twinkling at him.

The ache in his jaw made Snape aware of just how tightly his teeth were clenched and he carefully unclenched them. The headmaster's misplaced cheerfulness was bringing out a strong desire to hex the man into next month. Snape settled instead for gripping the arm of his chair; it kept him from reaching for his wand.

While Snape had been mastering his roiling emotions, Dumbledore had continued to speak, "…you both to join me as we do not know how difficult it will be to extract him from the situation." He must have been addressing McGonagall and Sprout, because both witches nodded. "Now, Filius and Severus, I will need you to sort out things with the Dursleys."

Snape leaned forward, irritation momentarily forgotten. The day was suddenly looking much brighter. If the boy had indeed been found, Snape would at last be able to visit justice upon the cretins. Half-made plans that he had amused himself with over the last four years presented themselves for consideration as his lips rose into an anticipatory smirk. "Do you wish to eventually hand them over to the aurors, or shall we sort things out more…informally?"

"Oh, I don't think we'll need the aurors for this. Just ensure that they treat our Mr. Potter more equitably from now on. There are a number of suitable and creative spells to chose from, but do take care to avoid anything that causes irreparable harm."

It was doubtful that a single person in the room could have failed to hear the click of Snape's jaw snapping shut against the furious words that threatened to burst forth. Merlin help him, Dumbledore intended to return the child to his abusers! He had suspected the possibility, but always had hoped that he was being overly cynical in his view of the headmaster. There was no way on Gaia's green earth that he would stand back and allow this to happen. He took a deep breath, determined not be the first in this altercation to raise his voice, but the effort involved in maintaining his restraint made his head ache. And his hand too. He looked down to see that despite his best efforts his wand had found its way into his hand, and his knuckles were white with the force of his grip.

Meanwhile, despite his silence, the conversation had grown heated. McGonagall, it seemed, took Snape's view of things, although the words were echoing as though they were rising from the depths of the Black Lake making the conversation difficult to parse. From what he did manage to make out, McGonagall was arguing that it was abhorrent to put Harry back in the care of his family. Dumbledore for his part was waving aside her arguments as he always did whenever presented with information that he did not wish to acknowledge.

That damn dismissive tone, the one that implied that of course Dumbledore knew best and that he was willing to indulge you by listening to your concerns, but he did not find them meaningful. Snape hated being patronized and he lost the thread of the conversation again as his ire rose another degree.

The shock of Erebus joining the argument cleared his mind enough to focus once again. "Dunderhead Dumbledore! Detention! Fifty points from Hufflepuff!" This was followed by a series of ear-splitting wordless shrieks.

Snape agreed with the sentiment, but reached out a hand to calm the parrot all the same. Erebus was furious, and it took some minutes for him to settle, minutes during which Snape attempted to use their bond—which communicated magic and emotions well enough but was not robust enough to transmit words or ideas—to communicate his intentions to handle the situation. Despite having ceased his screams, Erebus's body language remained aggressive, and Snape rather thought anybody reaching out right now was in danger of losing a finger to that wicked beak.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said when the bird had subsided and then turned back to McGonagall. "It is the best place for him," he said.

"Have you been kicked in the head by a hippogriff? Their lack of care was criminal and you must have lost your senses to expose him to such abuse again."

"Not at all," Dumbeldore assured her, his eyes twinkling still. "That is precisely what Severus and Filius are to prevent. There are precautions we can take, charms that will prevent them from harming him."

"Yes, and physical abuse is the only kind worth worrying about. It is of little matter if they ignore his very presence." Snape's eyebrow rose. It took a lot to inspire McGonagall to the level of sarcasm she was currently exhibiting. "That home is not a fitting location," she insisted

"You speak of his emotions, Minerva. I speak of his very life. Petunia's home is the only location for him."

Snape understood then with dreadful certainty that Dumbledore would not be moved on this topic. It was not unexpected, but there had still been a flicker of hope that reason and duty would win the day.

The anger that was still boiling within him became laced with deep sadness that clenched at his heart. Sadness for Potter, yes, but also for his own loss of respect for his erstwhile protector and mentor. His shoulders slumped and he sank more deeply into his chair feeling cut adrift and directionless. For all that he had been at odds with the headmaster several times over the last few years, he had still respected the man. Dumbledore had taken a great chance in accepting Snape into The Order, and Snape had felt obligated to repay that great debt.

However, he could feel no loyalty to a man who would forsake a child in this manner. He had hoped it would not come to this, but as persuasive argument seemed doomed to failure he would take a more aggressive tack.

"…be perfectly safe," Dumbledore was saying.

Gathering his anger around him like a cloak, Snape stood. "No," he said, allowing magic to suffuse the word so that, despite its lack in volume, the portraits on the walls rattled in their frames.

He felt the eyes of his fellow heads of house on him but ignored them, keeping his attention fixed on Dumbledore. The older man had not managed to completely mask his surprise, Snape was gratified to see. And he had drawn his wand. Now that was interesting. Not even when he had been a Death Eater and had arrived uninvited to Hogwarts had the headmaster felt Snape was enough of a threat to require his wand be unsheathed. That had apparently changed today, like so many other things.

"Harry Potter will not be returned to the Dursleys."

"That is not your decision to make, Severus." No twinkle, no smile accompanied those words. No, they were spoken in a tone edged with ice and steel.

"And I suppose you believe it is yours? Perhaps it was at one time, but no more. The welfare of a child is a sacred trust, and you have forsaken your duty."

There was a gasp to his left—Sprout, probably—and Flitwick was muttering something under his breath, but Snape had a driving need to continue. He took a breath, but Dumbledore spoke first.

"I advise you to consider your next words with extreme caution."

Snape could count on one hand the number of times he had been witness to Dumbledore as angry as he was now. The thrumming of magic he felt against his skin as the headmaster's temper stirred was frankly terrifying, and Snape fought to suppress a flinch with moderate success. Any magical battle between them would lead to his defeat, Snape knew, but he could not retreat now.

"I will not abandon the child, though it leaves us at odds. Should you attempt to return Harry Potter to the Dursleys, or to place him in any home that I deem unsuitable, I will oppose you with every fiber of my being, even unto my last breath."

Dumbledore's power again flared painfully, but the sensation ceased a moment later, replaced with the warmth of Erebus's magic flowing through him. Though it did not happen often, Snape was familiar with the sensation and merged their magics together seamlessly. Then, with the full weight of their combined resolution, he met Dumbledore's gaze. This time it was the headmaster who could not quite suppress a flinch.

"From this day forth, Harry Potter is under my protection. Choose your actions accordingly."

H~*~P

Snape shook his head, the flagstones of the floor swimming slowly into focus. How had he come to be on his knees staring at the flagstones? There was the sound of a footstep nearby and he tightened his grip on his wand, turning his gaze up to find Dumbledore standing over him with a dangerous look on his face. When had that happened? The headmaster had been halfway across the room.

Keeping Dumbledore in his peripheral vision, Snape took stock of the situation. McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout were all more or less where he remembered they had been standing, so he could not have lost too much time. Erebus had moved from the back of the chair he had been perched on to its seat and was looking somewhat dazed.

Snape drew in a sharp breath. Whatever had incapacitated him could have affected Erebus as well given that their magics had been intertwined at the time. If it had felled him, how had Erebus been affected? He needed to check on the wellbeing of his familiar, but Dumbledore was speaking, his quiet, dangerous tone demanding Snape's attention. Deal with the danger first, then tend the wounded. Praying the delay would not cost Erebus his life, Snape turned back to the headmaster.

"What have you done?" Dumbledore all but growled the question.

Snape hadn't the least clue, but nothing could have induced him to admit that at this time. Instead, he stood as gracefully as he could manage, noting as he did so that he had sustained no major injuries. Not until he regained his feet did he speak; kneeling in front of Dumbledore felt too much like his interactions with the Dark Lord for comfort.

"Merely what was necessary, headmaster. I will protect the child to the best of my ability, even from you." Then, feeling his point had been made, and willing to risk Erebus's health no longer, he directed a fierce sneer at Dumbledore, and turned his back. In a trice he was kneeling by the chair where Erebus was standing unsteadily, his head canted and his eyes half-shut. It was a risk to turn his back on an angry Dumbledore, to be sure, but not much of one. The headmaster was not a man to hex somebody when their back was turned, at least not in front of witnesses. (As a Slytherin, Snape was cynical enough to consider the possibility that Dumbledore would act dishonorably, but only when there was no one around to see.) And even now Snape did not think that the man was deliberately evil, just so focused on the war, on the greater good, that he would overlook the suffering of those he relied upon.

Snape ran gentle hands over Erebus's head, and then stretched out the glossy black wings one at a time, looking for wounds or broken bones. Magic would have been faster and given him a more information, but he needed the tactile connection. Furthermore, judging by how Erebus was leaning into his touch, his familiar was of a similar mind. Although the contact with his familiar was soothing, Snape only relaxed sufficiently to release his wand once he heard Dumbledore's footsteps cross the room followed by the door opening and clicking shut.

"Well, that was interesting," McGonagall said somewhere behind him.

Erebus's half-closed eyes had him concerned, so he cast a diagnostic charm. There was some constriction of the blood vessels in the brain due to swelling of the surrounding tissues. It was not enough to be dangerous, but it was likely causing quite the headache. Come to think of it, he had a headache as well.

"Indeed. That's not something one sees every day," he heard Sprout reply.

He coaxed Erebus onto his arm and walked over to the cabinet in the corner of the room where there was a small stock of every-day first aid supplies and potions. Uncorking the one he needed, he selected a dropper and fed a few drops to Erebus before drinking the rest himself. The pain flowed away, carrying with it lingering tension Snape had been unaware of.

"Once in a lifetime," Flitwick agreed.

Snape returned to the chair he had occupied not so many minutes ago. A few minutes, it had felt like hours. Merlin, he was tired. Absently, he stroked Erebus, who leaned against his chest and gave a contented sigh.

"I don't know about that," Sprout said. "Dumbledore doesn't lose an argument often, but it has happened from time to time."

Flitwick shook his head. "Not the argument, Pomona, although that was impressive enough, I daresay. No, I was speaking of Severus's invocation of Old Magick. One could live their entire life and see nothing like it."

His head snapped up and he stared at his diminutive colleague, his hand pausing mid-stroke on Erebus's back. "What?"

"The Old Magick." Flitwick stopped and stared at Snape for a long moment. "Did you not realize? From your final words to the headmaster, I surmised that you knew what you had done."

Snape's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Not at all. I simply did not deem it wise to admit my ignorance at the time." He was beyond caring if these words got back to Dumbledore. Let the man know he had been duped. That suited Snape perfectly well.

At that, McGonagall burst out laughing. "I saw the look on Dumbledore's face right after you turned your back on him, and he judged the situation just as Filius did. I daresay he was both incensed and impressed. More the former than the latter, mind, but it was there all the same.

"This is all well and good, but what does it all mean?" Sprout put her hands on her hips and looked between the three of them. "Severus summoned Old Magick in a spell so powerful he collapsed under the weight of it and then when he recovered he forced some sort of concession out of Dumbledore, but to what effect?"

"Concession?" Snape asked, incredulous.

"Dumbledore left, did he not?" she said.

That was an excellent point, and Snape nodded an acknowledgement.

Flitwick cleared his throat and looked at Snape. "The magic took hold directly after you declared Potter was under your protection. I believe it safe to assume that your word has been taken as a binding oath. As innocuous as that may seem, however, these sorts of things often have broader implications."

The phrase "broader implications" sent a shiver down his spine. "Such as?"

"I could not say, I am hardly an expert on the vagaries of ancient magics, much less ones as mercurial as you invoked. I would need to do some research."

Of course he would. Bloody Ravenclaws and their bloody research. He pinched the bridge of his nose. In this case, he decided, Flitwick likely had the right end of the wand. Snape knew very little of the ancient forces that had been relied upon in the early days of witchcraft beyond that they were powerful and fickle, with a tendency to backfire on those who summoned them, and incomplete knowledge of what he had done could prove to be a liability.

"I believe some reading is indeed in order," Snape agreed. It was a task he was quite capable of undertaking on his own, but in this matter promptness was more important than pride. "I would appreciate any assistance you would be willing to offer."

Flitwick bounced in his chair, appearing thrilled at the very prospect. "There are a few grimoires in the restricted section that should be of some use."

Erebus nudged his hand and Snape resumed his stroking, listening to Flitwick's plans with half an ear. Somehow he had bound himself to Harry Potter. Four years ago the very thought would have been abhorrent, and yet, knowing what did of the child's upbringing, he could not find it in himself to regret either his words or their unintended magical consequence, at least as far as he understood that consequence at the moment. Dumbledore might not even comprehend the extent of the bond, which would give Snape a fair bit of leeway in his actions. It was satisfying to know that when the child was found, Snape would be able to ensure he was given the opportunity to experience a loving home. Perhaps the Weasleys would have some advice on that.

* * *

 **AN: I attempted at least five different versions of this chapter. This was the best of them, but I'd love to hear what you think of it (concrit and praise both accepted).**


	6. Research and Findings

**In which some research is done and Snape suffers a bit of a shock.**

* * *

The day after the confrontation in the staff room, McGonagall paid Snape a visit at his home in Spinner's end where he was beginning his research into the possibilities for unexpected consequences tied to his vow.

After they exchanged polite greetings, McGonagall sat across from Snape looking grim. "I went with Dumbledore. It wasn't Harry."

"Of course it wasn't. Did you really expect otherwise?"

McGonagall sighed. "No, but it does not follow that I lacked hope."

That much Snape could understand. He had half hoped for it as well, wishing that he could begin to fulfill his vow to protect the boy. "Did he tell you whose information led to this particular excursion? Not that duplicitous Fletcher again, I trust?"

"Dedalus Diggle."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Diggle's as foolish as Fletcher is dishonest."

"Not as foolish as all that," McGonagall disagreed, then amended, "At least not this time. The boy in question had dark hair, green eyes, and a scar on his forehead. And not a spark of magic."

Snape glowered. "Tell me Dumbledore didn't abandon the child based on the belief that Harry Potter couldn't possibly be a squib." Leave it to Dumbledore to make the assumption that the child of prophecy could not possibly lack magic and thereby end up abandoning the boy he claimed to wish to rescue. Snape was on the point of demanding the location of the child in question so he could determine the truth for himself, but McGonagall's reply quelled the concern her earlier words had inspired.

"No, no! Of course not. It is most definitely not Harry. The scar, while jagged and shaped roughly like a bolt of lightning, was not a curse scar but one acquired by mundane means. A car crash, his parents informed us. And yes, they were his biological parents, not adoptive. Albus made certain that they were telling the truth and that their memories had not been altered."

Truth serum and legilimency, Snape surmised. Likely followed by obliviation. He did not envy the muggles the headaches they had undoubtedly woken up with this morning. He found himself pleased with the headmaster's thoroughness, however. Absently he wondered at the marked increase in protectiveness he was feeling towards the Potter boy. Was the change due to his resolution to defend the child, or had it been magically enhanced? One more question to add to his list.

"That is good, then," he said, realizing that he had been lost in his thoughts long enough for McGonagall to begin looking concerned. "Do you know if Dumbledore will continue the search after yesterday's incident? Or, rather, will he continue to keep you—and through you, me—informed of his efforts, for I doubt anything could cause him to cease searching."

"He will."

"You sound very certain."

McGonagall smiled a tight, calculating smile. "We spoke of the matter. He is not pleased with how things stand now, but he also recognizes the serious nature of the vow you made. I believe…that is Albus has given me good reason to believe that he will not oppose you and may even be of assistance."

"What precisely has he said?"

"You shall have to speak to him if you truly wish to know. He did say he intended to send an owl, though."

Snape picked up his wand and summoned a piece of parchment. "He requested we meet and 'discuss matters.' I did not reply."

"Perhaps you should. You might be surprised at what he has to say."

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, considering. He would have to speak to Dumbledore, he knew, and he could not put it off too long. But the emotions were still too fresh, too raw. "Not today, Minerva. I need more time. When you see him next, inform him that I will be in contact before the end of the summer holidays."

A disappointed look crossed McGonagall's face, but it was followed by understanding. "I will let him know. Don't wait too long. A wound left uncleaned may fester rather than heal. And now," she stood, shaking the wrinkles out of her robes, "I shall leave you to your thoughts and your research."

H~*~P

Although Snape had an extensive collection of books, there were very few relevant to his current search, his interests having focused more on potions and the dark arts. Within a few days he had exhausted that resource and had returned to Hogwarts to search through the library's restricted section with Flitwick. They spoke little, just enough to coordinate their efforts, and by the end of the week had amassed several yards worth of notes.

At the moment, Snape was perusing a book that had an entire section on spontaneous magical adoptions.

 _When a witch or wizard of age assumes the burden of care or protection for an otherwise unprotected magical child, their magic may effect an adoption as legal and more binding than any human ceremony. This is rare, however, as it may only occur when the following conditions are met:_

The list that followed was short, but the first item certainly did not pertain to himself and the Potter child, and so he put the book to the side, making a note as he did so to eliminate adoption from the list of possible magical consequences. It was a shame, he thought, as the adoption would have been instantly reflected in any number of official documents, giving him the legal right to protect the boy as he saw fit.

"Erebus is very quiet today," Flitwick said, returning to his seat after retrieving a stack of books nearly as tall as himself.

"Indeed." Snape selected a new book from the pile and opened it.

"I rather expected he would cause a bit more fuss at being in the library for hours each day, but he has been very well behaved since our arrival. Nary a peep out of him, and none of his usual antics."

Based on the friendly tone, it was clear that Flitwick meant it as a compliment, however his words froze Snape to his chair and caused a cold sensation to grip his chest.

Birds often hide their illnesses.

Had not all the muggle books on parrot care he had acquired said that subtle changes in behavior, including sleeping more and vocalizing less, could be indicative of serious illness?

Shutting the book in front of him with a snap that would have drawn a glare from Madame Pince had she been present, Snape stood. "You will excuse me, there is an important matter I must attend to. I will return as soon as I am able." He directed a brief bow towards Flitwick in acknowledgement of the man's continued assistance before calling Erebus to him and striding out the door.

Five minutes later, after ascertaining that Silvanus Kettleburn was not in the castle, Snape's long legs were carrying him toward Hogsmede with as much haste as could be managed without breaking into a run. It took him twelve minutes to reach his destination. Twelve minutes fraught with unaccustomed worry. Not since he had realized the Dark Lord had targeted the Potters and their son—had targeted _Lilly_ —had Snape been so consumed with fear for another being. He had failed to save Lilly; had his preoccupation with his research caused him to fail Erebus as well?

The magical creatures veterinarian, Panacur Theracens, a tall witch with a soothing voice and a kind face, ushered them into her office with a smile that Snape could not return.

"Aren't you a handsome fellow?" she said, after convincing Erebus to step off Snape's arm and onto a perch on the examining table. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"Erebus has been quiet lately, and less active. Not at all his usual trouble-making self."

"For how long?" she asked, waiving her wand in a complex little dance about the bird's head. Erebus, who under normal circumstances did not take well to magic being performed on him by strangers, did not react. Snape's mood soured further.

"A few days. Possibly longer." That was as close as he could come to admitting that he had not been paying proper attention to his familiar. Yes, the research he was engaged in was important, but that was no excuse.

His silent recriminations were interrupted by another question. "And has he been eating?"

"Yes." Snape paused, "That is…he has not eschewed food completely, but it is possible that he has been consuming less than usual."

Doctor Theracens, nodded. "That would be consistent with what I'm seeing. Beyond that and a touch of dehydration, I see nothing physically wrong with him. However, I have to admit that my experience with non-magical birds is mostly owls and the odd raven. Parrot physiology is similar, but not entirely familiar to me, and I know next to nothing about their normal behavior. I doubt my scan would have missed anything currently life-threatening, but I cannot be certain that there isn't something wrong that will become serious if left untreated."

Snape ran a hand through his hair, realizing how much that gesture betrayed his emotional state but unable to suppress it. "What do you suggest then?"

"You have two options. First is to wait and see if anything changes. Coax him to eat a bit more. If he has any particular favorites, offer those, or treats. Anything to keep him from losing too much weight. Then, if he gets worse, or hasn't improved within a week, bring him back here."

Wait to see if whatever was wrong became deathly serious? Not bloody likely. Snape sneered at the very idea. "And the second option?" he prompted.

Dr. Theracens, was unfazed by his acidic tone. "Find a specialist in parrot health and behavior. It'll likely have to be a muggle unless you want to go abroad, since parrots aren't common familiars in these parts. Muggle methods may be slower, but their diagnostic abilities have come quite a long ways recently, as I understand it. In some ways their techniques surpass our own. Once you have a diagnosis you can decide between using the muggle treatment or devising a magical one."

Snape questioned Dr. Theracens further, but there was, according to her, no viable third option. He left the office, heart heavy, carrying his subdued familiar on his arm. Was there really any benefit to be had by going to a muggle veterinarian? He had seen what muggle medicine had done, or rather had failed to do, for his mother, and was wary of relying on it now. Yet, if Dr. Theracens, felt it was the only reasonable option other than waiting, well he would not just sit by and hope that Erebus's condition would not worsen.

Decision made, he directed his steps to the Three Broomsticks to floo to London (Erebus disliked apparation). If he were to visit a muggle establishment, he would need to procure muggle funds.

Diagon Alley was as crowded as usual, and Snape was scowling fiercely by the time he walked into the cool of the marble chamber that was the Gringotts main hall.

"Good afternoon," he said, nodding with respect to the goblin behind the counter. "I should like to withdraw some funds and exchange them for muggle currency, if you would." Without needing to be prompted, he handed over his key for inspection.

The goblin, whose nameplate read Gornok, tapped the key on the desk and riffled through the documents that appeared there. "Very well" he said, "and will you be making the withdrawal from your primary vault or from the trust vault?"

Snape blinked. "My primary vault. However, you have reminded me of another matter. As I have only acquired the trust vault recently, I should like to procure a full accounting of the contents."

Gornok showed his teeth in what Snape took to be a kind of smile. "Of course. I shall have the documents waiting when you return."

Two wild, and thankfully uneventful, cart rides later, Snape returned to Gornok to exchange his galleons for pounds, and to collect the promised documents and Erebus—familiars not being allowed into the depths of Gringotts.

Curiosity overcoming him, Snape stepped to a corner of the hall and untied the roll of parchment he had been handed. He skimmed the heading of the document, and then read it a second time more closely. That was impossible. Unless…

He needed to return to Hogwarts at once. Snape promptly retied the cord securing the parchment and stuffed the document into an inner pocket of his robes. "My apologies, Erebus, but we need to apparate."

H~*~P

Flitwick had not been in the library when Snape returned, but that was all to the good, as it allowed him to retrieve the book he had been reading earlier and leave without being asked questions that he was as yet unprepared to answer. Book in hand, he retired to his quarters and promptly firecalled McGonagall Hall in Caithness.

"Minerva!" he called out into the empty hall that greeted him. Empty, that was, except for a tabby cat that on second glance was most definitely not his colleague. The cat in question, disturbed from its nap by Snape's shout, sneezed once before stalking away. McGonagall appeared scant seconds later, radiating concern.

"Severus! What's wrong?"

It was a reasonable assumption on her part that something was amiss, Snape conceded, given his well-known preference for written communication unless the matter was urgent. "I have discovered an…anomaly that I believe is related to what occurred the other day, and I would value your opinion. Do you have a few moments?"

Her eyes widened briefly. "Certainly. Would you care to step through, or shall I come to you?"

Snape considered this for a moment. It might be for the best to hold this conversation outside of Dumbledore's purview. On the other hand, he was confident in the wards surrounding his chambers and had no knowledge of the ones the McGonagalls had in place. The voice of one of McGonagall's extended family in another room decided the matter for him; this was a conversation that necessitated absolute privacy. "Please join me in my quarters at Hogwarts," he said, and at her nod, withdrew his head from the flames.

As soon as McGonagall stepped through the floo he sealed it behind her. He then prepared a pot of tea, handing her a glass prepared to her liking.

"I was reading this earlier today," he said, passing her the book he had retrieved from the library, open to the last page he had read. He indicated two lines in particular, "That should preclude the possibility of an adoption, do you not agree?"

"Indeed," she said, after a moment.

"Then how might you explain this?" he asked, this time handing over the roll of parchment from Gringotts.

She scanned the document. "Trustee?"

"And guardian," Snape said, pointing out the next line. "Yet the book states that the child in question must either approve the change in guardianship within two days or have an established bond of love and trust with the adult making the claim. I am quite certain that I do not have any such bond with any child of an age to be Harry Potter."

Erebus, who had until that point been dozing on his perch, flew to Snape's shoulder peering down at the documents under discussion. It was the most interest he had shown in anything for several days, and Snape felt a small measure of relief at the possibility that his familiar might not be ill after all.

He reached up to stroke Erebus's head as he continued, "What I would like to know is, if the boy is indeed lost, how could he have been informed of my claim in time to properly approve it?"

"You suspect someone of concealing Harry's whereabouts?"

Snape picked up his teacup to take a sip, almost wishing for something stronger. "How could I not? And yet reason tells me it cannot be so. Sprout and Flitwick are earnest in their desire to find the boy, with not a hint of deception about them, and neither is skilled enough at Occlumeny to conceal such a thing from me.

"As for yourself, until last week, I doubt if you would have hidden such a thing from Dumbledore." He raised his eyebrows in question and McGonagall nodded at this assessment of her likely behavior. "And given the headmaster's reaction during our confrontation, I cannot imagine he would tell the child himself. But who else could it have been?"

"Perhaps he confided in a member of the Order?" McGonagall suggested, but Snape could tell she did not really believe it.

Snape waved the hand that was still holding his teacup, dismissing the idea. "Dumbledore is not one to share his secrets or his frustrations."

There was silence for a few minutes as both professors became lost in their thoughts. After a while, Erebus walked down Snape's arm to his lap, butting his head into the man's arm. Rousing slightly, Snape scratched the parrot's head, running the wild and unruly crest feathers through his fingers. Unruly feathers, like a messy mop of hair that would never lie flat…he stared. Memories half-forgotten sprang to mind, snapping into place like the pieces of a puzzle.

The voices and phrases the bird had known…

The letters dropped on the head table which they thought had been returned to sender…

The cupboard! Merlin's knotty staff, he had dismissed that as sympathetic magic. Was it really possible that he had been so blind?

Erebus butted Snape's hand again, but when the man did not resume the caress, he began to preen himself.

"Minerva?" he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the parrot and speaking softly as one does when they do not wish to startle away a half-formed idea. "When exactly did Potter go missing?"

"May of '85," she answered without hesitation.

"May to September," he muttered. "Four months would be sufficient, I should think."

"Sufficient for what?"

Snape met her eyes and with careful deliberation tilted his chin down. "To travel to Hogwarts from Surrey."

"No!" she whispered. "You don't think…?"

Snape cut her off her with a half-raised hand. Then he leaned forward, tilting his head to better look at the parrot on his lap. "Harry?" he addressed it.

Erebus froze, then snapped his head around to meet Snape's gaze, his crest rising and falling with uncertainty.

"Merlin," he heard McGonagall swear under her breath.

He had missed it. They had _all_ missed it. Snape could only hope that the child had suffered no irreparable harm from maintaining his animagus form for so long.

Snape extended his shaking hand toward's his familiar's—his ward's—head. Erebus—Harry!—welcomed the touch, leaning into his hand. With infinite care, Snape smoothed back the still bobbing crest feathers, closing his eyes in mingled remorse and relief. "Oh, Harry."

* * *

 **In the tradition of names in the wizarding world often giving away something about the person in question, I present Dr. Panacur Theracens: Pan - all Cur - care Ther - beast or animal Cens - assess**

 **Also, I want to thank sunsethill for pointing out that Palm Cockatoos have "Potter Hair." I had always intended for Snape to have an epiphany, but that idea just begged to be the start of his mental shift.**

 **Well...was that the finding you expected from the research? Concrit welcome.**


	7. Unforseen Obstacles

AN: Sorry for the delay. There are a number of reasons, but while you're here to read, you're _not_ here to read my life story. Work is easing up soon, so hopefully there won't be this long of a wait again.

* * *

"You are safe now, Harry," Snape said several minutes later, once he felt everyone had had sufficient time to come to terms with the revelation of Erebus's identity. "Will you transform back?" It felt strange and wrong to refer to Erebus as Harry, but Snape considered that it had been long enough since the child had been addressed by his given name.

The great black parrot tilted its head and stared at him a moment before shaking his head violently side to side.

"Should I leave?" McGonagall asked. "Perhaps he will be more at ease with only you here."

Snape paused, considering the emotions he felt seeping through their bond, "No, he's not afraid. Not anymore. He's…he's confused. Hardly surprising, I suppose. How could a four year-old child raised by muggles have possibly understood what had happened? I think you may be of more use to him at the moment than I could be. Perhaps you can explain the transformation."

"I have not mentored a animagus in nearly a decade, and never one so young or who had achieved the transformation through accidental magic. The normal process involves keeping a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month, you know."

"Minerva." Snape cut off what he expected was about to turn into a rambling lecture. "Perhaps a demonstration to begin with?"

"What? Oh, of course." She rose from her chair, giving herself a little shake, and then shifted, her form blurring until a moment later she stood before them as a tabby cat, spectacle markings around her eyes. Snape had not known how Harry would react and was unprepared for the wave of shock that he felt through their connection. After a breathless moment, the child in parrot form raised his crest to its full height, screamed, and leapt off Snape's lap, hopping toward McGonagall.

It was amusing to watch the bird inspect the tabby cat first with one eye, then the other, before lifting one leg and beginning to open and close his foot around her ear.* For her part, McGonagall bore the attention with aplomb, at least until Harry took it into his head to climb onto her back. In a motion that epitomized feline grace, she rose, stretched, and twisted all at once, dislodging the parrot. She sauntered a few steps away before transforming back.

She knelt then and addressed Harry directly. "You achieved the hardest part of the transformation, child, when you first took the form you currently wear. To reverse the transformation, you need only concentrate on your human form."

Harry clicked his beak irritably.

"Can you explain how you did that for your first transformation? Did you picture yourself as human, perhaps, or was it something else?" Snape suggested.

"It has been a while since my first transformation, but it wasn't an image so much as it was focusing on what it feels like to be human and how that was different from what I felt as a cat," she answered Snape and then turned back to speak to Harry, her voice shifting from its normal tones to something that was nearly hypnotic. "You have two legs, but they're not made for gripping things. No your toes are short and not very flexible, and your feet are set up for walking. Imagine the feel of your legs swinging back and forth as you run, first one heel hitting the ground then the other. As you run you pump your arms. It's strange to see them without feathers, but while you know they would be useless for flight, they are excellent at gripping things. Your hands each have five fingers and you clench those fingers into a fist, feeling your nails dig into your palms before relaxing them. You reach out with one hand and close those fingers around…"

Her words were cut off by a horrible sound, one that had Snape at Harry's side in a flash. The last time he had heard that pained squawk was when Erebus had managed to get his foot stuck in the gap between two student desks and had broken two toes in his struggle to get free.

"I was under the impression that the animagus transformation was painless," Snape bit out, worry for Harry voicing itself as an accusation.

McGonagall's lips thinned in the way they had when she was fighting some strong emotion. "It is. Or it should be."

When Snape glared at her, she gave him a significant look, eyes flicking down to Harry for just a second. That was all it took for Snape to recall that this situation was far from what one might normally encounter. He inclined his head to her in silent apology and she nodded.

He inspected Harry quickly, but there was sign of actual injury. "Harry, are you still in pain?"

The bird shook his head.

It took several minutes for Snape to convince Harry to try a second time, but when the result was the same he forebore to suggest any further attempts. For his part, Harry had screamed a few times—in frustration rather than in pain, if Snape was any judge—and flown to his perch above the fireplace. He sat there unmoving in the position he normally adopted while sleeping, his head turned toward his back and beak buried in feathers, but Snape did not need their bond to know that Harry was upset.

"There is a spell," McGonagall suggested in a near whisper.

Snape nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off the headache beginning to build there. "I know of it." The Dark Lord had been extremely paranoid and Snape had seen the spell used more than once on innocent animals that had the misfortune to wander too near a meeting of Death Eaters.

" _Muffliato._ " He felt the slight pressure of the privacy spell settle around them. This was not a conversation he wished Harry to hear. How many times over the past few years had he unknowingly allowed the child to listen to unsuitable conversations? Too many, certainly.

"Is it painful?" he asked.

"It can be. It is uncomfortable but not painful if you do not resist; if you fight the change however, it can hurt, though the pain is over in a scant few seconds. What is a few seconds pain when compared to being trapped in a body that is not truly your own?"

"The transformation itself should not be painful, yet for Harry it is. I am hesitant to add more pain into the equation if it can be avoided. What if we use a sleeping potion to ensure he remains unaware of the worst of it?"

The blood drained from McGonagall's face, leaving her paler than the Bloody Baron and Snape thought for a moment that she was on the verge of being sick. She swallowed several times before speaking. "Both thought and will are involved in the transformation. If the magic is left unguided by the conscious mind, the results are…let us just say that when it was attempted the witch only lived for two days and all who saw her agreed that it would have been better had she died during the process."

"A potion for the pain, then?"

"I wouldn't recommend it. The ones strong enough to potentially be of use against any significant pain are also strong enough to alter the consciousness of the patient."

Snape considered the situation for a moment before coming to a decision. "We will try, but only if Harry agrees."

"He's only a child, Severus, it is unfair to place the decision on his shoulders. Think of what he will miss as a cockatoo."

It was difficult for Snape not to roll his eyes at her angry protest. "I am hardly suggesting we give up and allow him to remain a parrot for the rest of his life should he say no. If he is reluctant today, I can see no harm in allowing him a few days to get used to the idea before bringing it up again. Can you? He has, after all, been in his animagus form for four years, I cannot imagine there is any real urgency."

McGonagall could be a typical Gryffindor at times, stubborn and excitable, but Snape had to give credit where it was due, she was also quite capable of sound reasoning. "No, you are likely correct on that account, although we have no way of knowing for certain. There have been several cases of individuals evading the law by remaining in their animagus form for years at a time without incurring permanent harm, but none of them have been children. I simply cannot say for sure either way, but if he is having difficulty now, we might reasonably assume it will grow worse. A short delay might not cause a noticeable difference, but I would counsel against waiting too long."

"At the moment, we are borrowing tomorrow's trouble. I will ask him and he may very well say yes given his distress at his failure just now. If he is not amenable, then we can discuss alternatives."

"You must do as you see fit," McGonagall said with a small smile. "After all, you are his father, now."

Snape froze. Earlier he had thought of Harry as his ward, but the book had not talked about assuming a guardianship, it had spoken of adoption.

Father. He was a father now.

He had never expected to embody that word, and even now he could not clearly articulate how he felt in thinking of himself as a father. Uncomfortable might cover it. Uncertain and unprepared as well. But not unwilling; no, he would do right by this child.

McGonagall was watching him, Snape knew, and he suspected she might have been trying to unsettle him with her choice of words. Well, he was too Slytherin to be bested that easily by a Gryffindor. "Quite right. And I think it is time I had a conversation with my son." He cancelled the privacy spell and made his way to where Harry was perched, suppressing his smirk at the surprise on his colleague's face.

It took a moment to be certain that he had the child's attention, and then he explained the situation about the spell, ending with, "Unfortunately, it must be done without the benefit of a potion to dull the pain, but should you choose to try this, I will have some ready to give you immediately after, in case it is necessary; we can hope it will not be."

Harry had looked eager at first, but flattened his crest and hissed at the mention of pain. Snape considered several things he could say, several manipulative, Slytherin things not least of which was addressing the child as his son to deliberately play on his emotions. But he could not bring himself to utter them. He had no way of knowing what kind of pain the spell would cause Harry when the transformation itself was supposed to be painless. This choice, he felt, must be made freely.

"Would you like to try the spell?" Snape held up his arm in front of the perch, a clear invitation. Harry cocked his head, considering, Snape thought, but making no move.

"Perhaps another time, then. I will ask again tommo—" Harry interrupted him by jumping from the perch onto the arm Snape had just begun to lower. "You wish to make the attempt?"

Harry bobbed his head, wings half-spread.

Snape smiled then, and stroked the excited bird's head. "That is very brave of you." Those words were normally not a compliment when spoken by the Head of Slytherin House, but today he meant it as such.

After retrieving three analgesic potions of differing strengths, Snape knelt and put his arm near the floor, allowing Harry to step down. Then he looked at McGonagall. Snape was proud of his abilities, but he recognized McGonagall's superiority when it came to transfiguration. "Might I impose on you to cast the spell itself? I have only cast it once or twice myself."

"Of course," she said, rising from her chair and moving to stand next to where Snape was still kneeling on the ground so that they were both facing Harry. "If you are ready?"

Harry bobbed again, less excited this time, but still willing. A flash of blue-white light streaked from McGonagall's wand to Harry, who froze. Another flash, and the bird began transforming into a boy. It was a scant second into the transformation that the squawk of pain began, causing Snape's breath to hitch and then speed up. It was much worse this time, if the sound was anything to judge by. He had to fight not to cringe away as the parrot's cry morphed into a human scream which became a hoarse gargle. And then it was done, and Snape stared into bright green eyes, glassy with pain for a second before the boy raised both hands to his neck and promptly collapsed in a heap.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest, stuttering in time to the short, pained gasps that were the only sound in the room. What had they done? A glance at McGonagall showed her face to be a mirror of the horror Snape felt.

No more than a dozen heartbeats later rational thought returned and he sprang into action, grabbing the strongest of the analgesic potions and pulling out the stopper with his teeth while moving to Harry's side. He rolled the child onto his back to administer the potion when he noticed Harry's hands still at his neck clutching at something.

Fool! Thoughtless, dunderheaded, fool! Snape called himself that and worse as he shifted the open vial to his left hand and drew his wand. He flicked it several times, first to vanish the child's clothes and then to summon a blanket from his bedchamber to cover him. Snape caught the blanket that he had summoned and wrapped it around the child—his child, he reminded himself—before taking Harry into his arms. Harry was now taking great shuddering gasps of air and Snape felt—and was grateful for—each one as he rose and settled them both on the couch.

"Severus what happened?" McGonagall asked, finally breaking free of her horrified stupor.

Snape shook his head; he would explain later. Right now, he had to attend to Harry.

How could he have overlooked the issue of clothing? When an animagus transformed, their clothes transformed with them, in either direction. And the last time Harry had transformed had been four years-old, not a well-grown child of nearly nine, of course the clothes he had been wearing would no longer fit. There was an angry red line encircling Harry's neck, and only the fact that he had been wearing tracksuit bottoms with an elastic waistband prevented there from being a matching line around Harry's waist. As for his neck, it was practically a miracle the child's windpipe hadn't been completely crushed.

Harry's gasps had become hoarse sobs.

"It's all right now. It's over," Snape said, keeping his voice low and soothing. "Here, drink this, it will help with the pain." He held the vial to Harry's mouth and the child swallowed the liquid without protest. As Harry sagged against him in relief, Snape felt the tension flow out of his own muscles. Wordlessly, he summoned a salve from his bathroom, grateful that he had left the cabinet open earlier in case of some unforeseen need.

Harry gasped when the cool salve made contact with his injured neck, but he did not pull away. "This will help the tissue heal. The potion numbed the pain, but it did not repair the damage," he explained, more to have something to say than anything else. "Are you alright? Does anything else hurt?" he asked when he was finished applying the salve.

"No," Harry whispered, and then closed his eyes, relaxing further in Snape's arms.

Snape, shaken to the core by the events of the last hour, could only watch as Harry Potter, a boy once more, fell asleep in his lap.

* * *

*There was a video that inspired this description. Go to youtube and paste this after the dot com watch?v=NOpS4qGILyY

For the record, it is not safe to have a bird and a cat interacting like that. The bacteria in cat saliva can cause a fatal infection in birds, so one bite or scratch (cats lick their paws and transfer the bacteria) can be doom for the bird. And the bird could have taken out one of the cat's eyes had it wanted to, those beaks are strong. Presumably the video maker knew their animals well enough to suspect the cat would be chill, but it is always a risk to have a cat and a bird interacting that closely. This has been your bird-lover's PSA for the day.


	8. Spinner's End

In which Harry has some adjustments to make.

* * *

Snape and McGonagall spoke briefly after Harry fell asleep, but within half an hour Snape had bid McGonagall farewell and adjourned to Spinner's End with the still-slumbering Harry.

With the many hesitations prompted by the excess of caution typical of any new parent, Snape settled Harry on the couch and slowly, oh, so slowly, dressed the child in a pair of pajamas shrunk down to his size, stopping every time Harry sighed or twitched in his sleep. Then, once certain that he had not inadvertently woken the child, went upstairs to prepare a bedroom. It had been years since he had entered his childhood bedroom and longer still since the chamber had been giving a thorough cleaning. It took nearly ten minutes to vanish the dust, replace the musty bedsheets and curtains with clean ones, and to see to it that the stale smell did not linger. He was considering how best to rearrange the furniture when there was a thump followed by a cry of pain.

"Harry!" He bolted out of the room.

After racing down the stairs, he found the child in a heap on the floor about three feet from the couch where he had been asleep. Green eyes stared up at Snape with—was that fear or pain? He couldn't be certain. Dropping to his knees he began checking for injuries.

"Are you hurt?"

Harry shook his head, his breath shuddering in silent sobs. Snape continued his inspection, though with decreased urgency. It did not take overlong to satisfy himself that his charge was unharmed.

"What happened?"

"I f-fell," he stammered. Snape realized that this was the first time he was hearing Harry's voice aside from a whispered 'no' a few hours ago, a whisper that was so quiet that it could barely be counted as speech. The child's voice was was oddly guttural, and Snape wondered idly if that was an aftereffect of having not used his human vocal cords for so long.

"I see. Well, no harm done. Let's get you up then, shall we? I just finished preparing your room." Snape reached out to assist Harry to his feet, but the boy cowered back. Snape froze, hand half outstretched, fighting the irrational sting engendered by the apparent rejection.

"No. Can't…walk."

A breath he hadn't realized he was holding rushed out of Snape's lungs as he recognized the reason behind Harry's withdrawal. Harry, who had been watching closely, appeared nonplussed by this. What reaction had the child expected? Was he in need of reassurance? The children in Slytherin tended to confide in each other (and only when necessary, at that) and almost never sought him out for any issue that was remotely personal. How should he go about it? The only being he had comforted with any regularity was Erebus. But then, Harry _was_ Erebus, he reminded himself. Perhaps the same tactics would work.

Slowly, he bridged the gap between them, resting his hand on Harry's head before stroking his messy mop of hair back once or twice. Just like Erebus would have done, Harry leaned into the caress. "It's alright, Harry. Minerva, that is, Professor McGonagall, said to expect as much."

The boy's eyes widened, and Snape gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Yes, according to her, anyone who spends a prolonged amount of time in one form, be it human or animal, tends to face a period of adjustment when they next transform. It will pass, and is no reason for concern."

"Oh…good." Harry sagged in relief, leaning up against Snape's side.

Snape also felt rush of relief upon realizing that, against all odds, he had said the right thing. "Now, would you like me to help you to your room?" Harry's stomach chose that moment to grumble. "Or perhaps you'd prefer some dinner first."

H*~*P

The previous night had gone well in Snape's estimation. Despite some difficulty in manipulating the utensils (and the resulting but entirely predictable mess), Harry had eaten a substantial, if strange, dinner consisting largely of foods that Erebus was not allowed to consume. Harry discovered that he loved cheese, avocados, ice cream, and chocolate, for example, and that he was not a fan of curry, shellfish, rhubarb, or onions.

Despite his earlier nap, Harry had had an exhausting and emotional day, and combined with a full stomach, he fell asleep soon after dinner. This left Snape with several hours to construct a plan. Numerous floo calls and a visit from Flitwick later, Snape had finally retired, musing on how it was only that morning that he had practically run to Hogsmeade seeking veterinary care for Erebus.

One of the tasks Snape had completed before retiring was to order a variety of things Harry would have need of. The first parcel arrived at breakfast the next morning, a rush delivery that Snape had paid exorbitant fees to arrange. Harry looked up curiously from where he had been chasing some eggs around his plate attempting to get them onto his fork while Snape inventoried the contents.

"Professor McGonagall is due to arrive in a few minutes, Harry. I thought that while she and I spoke, you might amuse yourself with these." He pushed the parcel across the table and watched as Harry inspected top volume from the pile of books. It was a children's book titled _Casey the Curious Crup_ boasting a brightly colored drawing of a smiling crup. The crup was wagging its forked tail and bounding back and forth on the cover with what Snape felt was altogether too much energy. Harry looked disgusted.

"I'm…not…a baby!" It seemed that Harry's stammer had survived the night.

"I am aware of that, I assure you. Yesterday I hardly had time to ascertain your proficiency in reading, did I?" Snape said, disliking having to state what he felt should be obvious.

"No, but I'm not…stupid…either," Harry insisted, attempting a glare. "I paid…attention…in your classes, you know."

Snape fought against the burgeoning frustration. He had not expected Harry to take umbrage at this. He chose his next words with caution. "Given the number of accidents your interventions have prevented, I could hardly fail to notice that much. I would wager that your potions knowledge is unrivaled amongst your peers."

Harry calmed somewhat at the complement, and Snape continued, "However, you must realize that your education has not been…well balanced, shall we say. In order to know how to proceed, we must first determine what you know, which is precisely why I ordered books of varying difficulties. I want you to look through them until you find one that interests you or presents a challenge to read. You need not read that particular book if you do not wish," Snape gestured at the offending volume. "In any case, should you have difficulty, all the books are charmed to speak any word you do not recognize; you need only tap the word twice with your index finger."

By the end of this speech, Snape's voice fairly dripped with scorn. He did not appreciate the tendency of others to expect the worst from him. In normal circumstances he could ignore it, caring little for the opinions of those too foolish to put aside their own misconceptions and prejudices. However, it stung coming from Harry who, after four years in his care as Erebus, ought to know better. He added a scowl for good measure, and Harry looked down and began to inspect the other books that had been delivered.

When Harry spoke next, he did so without raising his eyes. "I'm sorry. I just…thought—I…figured you thought…I'm sorry."

Harry's embarrassed flush ad obvious remorse broke through Snape's irritation, although the feeling returned shortly afterward directed at himself. That could have been handled better. After all, he was the adult, and he ought to act the part.

"We will need to ascertain your current aptitude in a number of subjects so that your schooling can continue in a more traditional manner. There are still two years before you are due to attend Hogwarts, and I will do whatever it necessary to see to it that you catch up with your peers. However, this exercise is as new to me as it is to you, and there are bound to be some moments of confusion and consternation on both our parts. I would be grateful if you made the effort not to assume any actions I take that you find less than pleasing stem from malice on my part."

Harry blanched at that. "I'm s-sorry. I'll…do better, I promise."

Blast. And once again, he got it wrong. How had he thought he could handle this? He dropped his head into his hands with a sigh, taking several calming breaths.

"And now it is my turn to apologize. In exchange for your promise, I will offer one of my own; I will endeavor to control my temper. I should not have been so harsh with you just now."

"Oh." Harry looked up, the wonder in his eyes making it clear that he had not expected an apology. "Th-thank you."

"Yes, now," Snape coughed, looking for a way to move past the embarrassingly sentimental moment they had just shared, "Professor McGonagall should be here shortly. Will you look through the books as I asked?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape nodded in approval. "I will call for you if your presence is required. I expect Professor McGonagall will wish to greet you, at the very least. Otherwise, you are to remain here unless you have need of something."

Harry appeared almost excited now that he had spotted several novels, Snape saw. If the boy was eager to master learning, it was all to the good. The boy looked up to affirm that he had heard the instructions and then returned to the task of selecting a book.

"Excellent." And then, because it struck him that this was something he would have said to Erebus in a similar situation, he added, "Good boy."

Harry beamed.

McGonagall arrived by floo several minutes later and Snape invited her to sit, carefully hide all signs of how much he was anticipating this conversation.

"And how is Harry this morning?" she asked once they had exchanged greetings.

"Well enough, I believe, given the circumstances. Although I do hope you can assist me through answering some questions I have."

"I don't know how much help I can be, having raised no children of my own, but I will certainly try," she said, settling herself more comfortably on the sofa and accepting the cup of tea Snape offered.

"Is it safe for Harry to transform, or does he require supervision for a period of time?"

McGonagall's brow wrinkled. "Transform? Transform what?"

Snape suppressed a smirk. This was intriguing. "I am speaking of the animagus transformation, of course."

She set down her teacup with a clink, lips thinning in they way they did when she was angry. "Severus, the boy is not even nine years old. Don't you dare put that idea into his head. Do you know how difficult and dangerous the animagus transformation can be?"

The smirk could not be repressed any longer, and McGonagall's reaction to his expression embodied what Snape felt was the epitome of Gryffindor thought processes.

"So help me, Severus Snape, if I hear you have even suggested attempting the animagus transformation before Harry has completed his O.W.L.s I will hex you beyond the ability of even your potions to cure!" She got to her feet as she shouted, brandishing her wand at him.

"Harry Potter is an animagus, and his form is Erebus, the palm cockatoo." He spoke each word clearly and then leaned forward in fascinated concern as he watched the emotions flicker across McGonagall's face.

Confusion. Shock. Understanding.

Snape handed her the teacup she had earlier abandoned and urged her to take a sip. She did so without resistance.

"Fidelius?" she asked, when she had collected herself.

Snape inclined his head. "Forgive me for not telling you at once. Fillius informed me that he could not be certain how well the charm worked as the secret in question is, in essence, several secrets. Speaking with somebody who had prior knowledge of the information before the charm was preformed is apparently the most reliable test." He felt a twinge of remorse as McGonagall took another bracing sip of her tea. Having never seen the effects of the Fidelius Charm on someone with prior knowledge of the secret, he had not realized it would affect her so dramatically.

"I cannot condone this, Severus. He should be registered."

That was not the response he had expected; he had prepared himself for anger due to his earlier interrogation, not questions regarding the legality of his actions. Still, he had considered the ramifications of this plan the previous evening and was ready with an answer. "No."

McGonagall leaned forward, fixing him with a stern look that had, in his student days, inspired more than a touch of trepidation. "You wish to condemn him to Azkaban should he be discovered?"

"First, he is a minor under my care; the court would find fault with me, not him. Second, how do you propose he would be discovered under a functioning Fidelius Charm?"

"It is against the law," she insisted.

"And the Order of the Phoenix is a vigilante group, yet you are a member."

"I—You—That is entirely different!" she sputtered.

"How so?" Snape replied, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip of his tea. His relaxed pose was a calculated one, and sure enough, his calculations were on point. McGonagall shifted from anger to an attempt to sway him with a logical explanation. One he was certain he would have no trouble dismantling.

"The bureaucracy of the Ministry was a hindrance in the fight against You-Know-Who. The Order was instrumental in the war and saved countless lives."

"True." He conceded.

"Then you see how this is so very different. He must be registered."

"You are aware, I think, that Harry's placement with his relatives provided him with a necessary sanctuary from the Dark Lord and his followers?" He waited for McGonagall to nod before continuing. "That refuge is now nonexistent, yet the danger remains. If Harry transformed into a cat, well that would be different. There are many cats, even in the muggle world. He would be able to hide if necessary, even if registered. But how many palm cockatoos are there in all of England? I looked them up after bonding with Erebus. They are rare, even among parrot enthusiasts.

"By insisting Harry register, you are putting his life at very real risk. Should the Dark Lord show even a hint of regaining his power, every Death Eater still at large will see killing or capturing Harry Potter as a way to prove their loyalty never wavered despite having denied him convincingly enough to avoid imprisonment. Harry _must_ have a refuge from that, and from the Dark Lord himself." He was pleased to see McGonagall looking taken aback.

With a vindictiveness that Erebus almost certainly would have nipped him for, he concluded, "So explain to me exactly why you think it is permissible, laudable even, to join a vigilante group to fight a war, while simultaneously finding it unacceptable to take a decidedly non-violent measure to protect a child who has been orphaned by that same war."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him, persisting for several moments in righteous Gryffindor anger before her shoulders slumped in defeat. "You have made your point, Severus. I will not oppose you on this."

Snape bowed his head in acknowledgment of this concession, knowing how difficult it must be for her. McGonagall had a keen sense of right and wrong, and it took a great deal at times to get her to see the grey areas in life, whereas he lived most of his life in the grey. Out of the goodness of his heart, he even refrained from pointing out that, as he was the Secret-Keeper, the strongest opposition she could mount would be a constant badgering for him to change his mind.

He then steered the conversation back to the business of the day. "About his transformation, then?"

"What? Oh, yes. He should not require supervision. Achieving the animagus form is like, oh, like building a road. It is a great deal of work to survey the best pathway, level the ground, and lay down the proper surfaces. However, once the road is built, traveling along it is simple. Now that he has achieved his form and reversed the transformation back to human, the odds of any difficulty drop to nearly zero absent factors such as severe illness or injury.

"Whether he will wish to attempt it after last night, though, is a different matter altogether."

Snape made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat. He would not be in the least surprised if Harry exhibited trepidation about his transformation. As he had said earlier, however, the form was an important refuge for him, and Snape was determined that Harry be able to make use of it before the start of the next school year.

H*~*P

The following week was busy and trying for Snape. One of the reasons it was so trying was that Harry only took a day or two to acclimate back to being human. His stammer all but vanished as he became more comfortable speaking, although the guttural nature of his voice lingered, and shortly after he was walking unaided he could be found running through the back garden—Snape had forbidden him from running in the house after the first such episode resulted in a broken lamp and several painful bruises for them both. Erebus had always alternated between utter fixation on a task and complete distractibility, and it seemed Harry was much the same, although if that was his true self or a lingering effect of being Erebus for so long, only time would tell. Whatever the cause, attempting to keep the child focused during his unpredictable bursts of energy was maddening.

For another thing, no matter how many times he reassured Harry that transforming from Erebus had only hurt due to having outgrown his clothes while in parrot form for nearly four years, Harry refused to even attempt to become the bird again. Snape had assured McGonagall that he would inform Dumbledore that Harry had been located—not for Dumbledore's sake but for that of the people who would otherwise be wasting their time searching—but he was hoping to be able to wait to do so until Harry could transform. He did not really expect Dumbledore to attempt anything unscrupulous regarding Harry at this point, but it was the way of Slytherin to always have an escape plan, and Harry's ability to hide as Erebus was that plan. However, the man would likely have to be told something, and soon.

Equally frustrating, if in a different way, was attempting to determine Harry's academic standard. The boy had a sharp mind, no doubt about it, but that mind had been engaged inconsistently. The result was a haphazard collection of knowledge that left Snape at a bit of a loss on how to continue the child's education to greatest effect. Harry was adept in the theory of potions, for instance, easily identifying ingredients, preparation methods, and brewing techniques. However, in subjects such as history (both magical and muggle) and geography he had no knowledge at all.

Furthermore, his claim of being able to read was only partially accurate. Unless the word might reasonably be expected to be written on the board during a potions class, the chances of Harry being able to work out its pronunciation and meaning were about one in four. Yet the boy refused to read primers that were on his level, not that Snape could blame him. "Casey the crup likes to play/but Billy, his boy, says, 'Not today,'" was hardly a gripping story line for an eight year-old. So day after day, Harry fought to read one of the more age-appropriate novels Snape had bought while Snape fought to keep Harry on task for more than five minutes at a time.

At least when the child was paying attention, which was less often than Snape would like, Harry had an impressive capacity for memorization.

"It's not as though I could ask people to repeat something or take notes or anything," he explained with a shrug when Snape had commented on it.

The resulting educational frustrations prompted several arguments between them and more than one tantrum on Harry's part, all making Snape wonder what ever made him imagine that he might be capable of caring for the child. But those few, precious moments of perfect understanding, like when Harry's eyes lit up with understanding of a new idea, gave him the strength to persevere.

However, there were other concerns growing in urgency as the days passed. The summer staff meeting was rapidly approaching, and Snape still had to decide what, if anything, to tell Dumbledore.

* * *

 **AN: I don't much like this chapter...I did not want to dwell on the difficulties Harry will have to deal with for having been a bird for almost 4 years, but I did not want to dismiss them entirely either. But as far as I'm concerned, that's a bit of background noise to the plot. Things should pick up again next chapter.**


	9. Staff Meeting Redux

**Yes, I'm still around. Yes, I know where the story is going to go. Yes, I'm sorry for the delay in getting there...**

* * *

In a corner of Snape's small book-lined study, on a shelf that careful placement of the lighting had ensured lay in constant shadow, sat a box covered in over seven years of dust and sealed with more enchantments than most Gringott's vaults could boast. Snape spelled away the dust and levitated the box to his desk where he proceeded to stare at it, his face carefully neutral despite there being no one else in the room to witness whatever emotions he was suppressing. He hated this box, despised the very idea that he owned its contents, and loathed the fact that he could not risk disposing of it. He was also disgusted at how mere objects, only one of which was in any way magical, held so much sway over him that he had yet to raise his wand to begin the process of unlocking them.

Chiding himself once more for his cowardice, he drew his wand and cast the first spell. Five minutes later, he heard the distinctive pop of the latch releasing. With a hand that was steady only because he willed it to be so, he opened the lid and met the obscene gaze of a grotesque skull mask nestled on a bed of black robes.

There was no stopping the shiver of fear that arced down his spine. Nor could he prevent the twist in his gut engendered by self-disgust. He had once been proud to wear this uniform, to serve the one who bestowed it upon him, and had, in the name of gaining favor in the ranks, ultimately lead to the demise of the best friend he had ever had.

Putting those thoughts aside—as much as they ever could be—he ignored both the mask and the robes to withdraw an unadorned silver band. A quick incantation revealed the spell was still active, not surprising given the strength and skill of the wizard who had cast it. Task complete, Snape shut the box, the protective spells automatically reengaging, and sent it back to its shelf before striding out of the room.

"Today is, as you know, the staff meeting at Hogwarts," he announced as he entered the kitchen where Harry was reading. The child looked up from his book but said nothing. "I had thought you would attend as Erebus…"

"No!" Harry broke in, jumping to his feet, knocking his book into a glass of water and causing both to tumble to the floor. "No, I won't do it! You can't make me!"

Snape fixed his charge with a stern look, prompting the child to sink back into his seat, though the anger and rebellion were still writ plain on his face. He took his time vanishing the spilled water, cleaning and refilling the glass, and drying the book, but Harry's ire did not appear to diminish.

Satisfied, at least, that he would not be interrupted again, Snape sat down across from Harry. "As I was saying, I _had_ thought you would accompany me as Erebus, but as that seems unlikely, I have had to come up with another solution. Can I trust you to keep yourself out of trouble for a few hours?"

At Harry's age, Snape had sometimes been without competent adult supervision for days, but Harry had less than five years experience with being human, and most of those years were beyond the reach of his memory. Snape was reluctant to leave him, yet there was little else that could be done. The only people entrusted with the twin secrets of Harry's identity and location would also be at the meeting and were therefore unavailable to watch him. He had no house elf, and he would not trust an elf bonded to another. No, if Harry could not come as Erebus, he would have to stay."

"Yeah, I can…I mean, yes." Harry quickly amended; Snape had been working with him on both diction and proper speech.

"Good. You are to remain here, then. And I want you to take this." Snape handed Harry the ring.

Harry accepted the tarnished loop of metal and studied it, turning it over and over in his hands.

"Don't just stare at it, put it on," Snape said somewhat more snappishly than he had intended. It inspired the desired result, though. Harry tried the ring on several of his fingers before leaving it on his right thumb, where it appeared to fit well enough to at least not be at risk of falling off.

"That is a portkey. If there is an emergency—not that you are bored or lonely but a real emergency such as an injury, or you for any reason feel that you are not safe—just tap the ring three times with a finger and say _espion._ It will bring you to our quarters in Hogwarts. If you are injured, seek out help, otherwise I will expect you to wait there for me."

That ridiculous password had been the Dark Lord's not so subtle attempt at humor. Spy, indeed. When Snape had begun to act as a spy, Dumbledore had wanted to supply him with a portkey, but couldn't as the risk of the Dark Lord detecting it was too high. In one of his more clever moments, if he did say so himself, Snape had convinced the Dark Lord to provide it instead. Snape had lamented that he could no longer attend raids without risking his position as a spy on Dumbledore, as he could not simply apparate back to the castle and claim he had been there all along. Of course, he was willing to abstain from the raids out of deference to his lord, he had said, given that his position as a spy at Hogwarts was too important to risk on a raid, but he wished he could be of further service. But perhaps an emergency portkey could be made that would allow him to serve more fully.

A muscle in Snape's arm twitched in remembered pain at the curses he had suffered for daring to make the request, but the Dark Lord had ultimately been flattered by Snape's subservience and pleased with his apparent lust for violence and had thus created the portkey. That his handiwork had first protected a spy in his camp and would now protect Harry Potter appealed to Snape's own dark sense of humor more than the Dark Lord choosing the word spy to activate the portkey ever had.

" _Espion_ ," Harry repeated. "Okay."

"Very well then. Lunch is in the refrigerator. Behave yourself just as you would if I were in the lab brewing. Better, even."

"I will, I promise."

"I will want to discuss your lessons when I return, so do not dawdle."

"I won't."

Snape opened his mouth to give more advice, then snapped it shut as he realized he was stalling. Instead he ruffled Harry's hair and tried not to be too shocked when he received a hug in return. As he stepped into the floo and his sitting room spun out of sight, Snape considered that this day would either be a milestone for Harry or a major mistake. Unfortunately for his nerves, only time would tell which.

He stepped out on the other end to a greeting from a smiling Dumbledore, a man whom he had last seen storming from this very room in a rage. This was going to be a long, difficult afternoon.

H*~*P

It took over two hours for all the mind-numbing business of the staff meeting to be completed. Everybody was introduced to Neil Newberry, the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The book lists were finalized. Schedules were arranged, and yet again Dumbledore had insisted on putting the Slytherins and Gryffindors together for potions. And a number of other matters essential to the efficient running of a boarding school were discussed.

This was followed immediately by the further tedium of the Head of House meeting, although for the first time in years the discussion was at least limited to Hogwarts matters and did not include anything about searching for Harry Potter. Still, selecting prefects, scheduling their patrols, and so on really should not take this long. He had selected the Slytherin prefects before leaving for the summer and had even had secondary options should Dumbledore disapprove of his choice (which he had yet to do, but Snape liked to be prepared).

Eventually the meeting did draw to a conclusion, and casual conversation took over the more ordered proceedings. He had a brief word with Professor McGonagall before making his way over to where Dumbledore was just finishing a conversation with Professor Sprout.

"Headmaster, a private word, if you would?"

"Of course, Severus."

They walked to his office, Dumbledore for once not attempting to fill the time with meaningless chatter to Snape's great relief.

The door to the spiral staircase had barely shut behind them when Snape spoke, needing to seize control of the conversation.

"I have located Harry Potter."

Dumbledore, who had been in the middle of gesturing to the pair of comfortable armchairs near the fire, froze. "What…when?"

It was not often that Snape had the opportunity to see Dumbledore off balance, and he took a moment to savor the experience, settling himself into a chair before answering. "About a fortnight ago."

Given how Dumbledore relaxed at that, finally taking his own seat, Snape thought the man might have suspected he had found the boy before their argument and purposefully neglected to say anything. For a moment, he considered taking offense at the headmaster's lack of trust, but rejected the idea on the basis that the suspicion was entirely reasonable. If their places were reversed, Snape would have harbored the same suspicions.

"Where? Is he well?"

"Yes, he is well, and his situation was not objectinable."

"How did you discover him? Tell me everything." Dumbledore sat back, his attitude a familiar one that reminded Snape of reporting during his spy days. There was one difference though. Today, the casual assumption that Dumbledore had every right to know the entire tale made Snape bristle inwardly, and it was difficult to keep his eyes from narrowing into a disdainful glare.

"Then I shall begin by informing you that your method of searching for the boy would never have succeeded, and my being n the right position to identify him was entirely coincidental. His accidental magic had seen fit to conceal him in a way that he was not recognized, despite having been taken in by a wizarding household only a few months after his initial disappearance. The involvement of his accidental magic in such a way, I feel compelled to point out, supports my assertions that all was not well at his relatives' home and that he left of his own accord."

"Yet you are not certain of the circumstances?" Dumbledore's raised eyebrows conveyed his continued skepticism.

"I have not yet had the opportunity to make inquiries of such a sensitive nature." He would have to ask soon, he had known that for several days at least, but he felt that Harry had enough to deal with in learning to be human again to add in what was bound to be an unpleasant discussion.

"Very well. Please inform me when you have done so."

It was phrased as a request, but once again Dumbledore's tone implied absolute confidence in his right to the information he sought. Snape made a noncommittal noise that the headmaster seemed to accept as an affirmative.

"Aside from that, you say he is well. What of his situation?"

"Despite the recent upheaval in his life, young Mr. Potter is a happy, healthy, and inquisitive child. His education has not been so well managed as I would have preferred, but I have put measures in place to rectify that. I have no doubt any deficiency in his schooling will be suitably rectified and he will come to Hogwarts well-prepared."

Dumbledore nodded, looking pleased at that information. "And what are your plans to see to his safety?"

Did the old fool actually expect Snape to share his plans? As easily as that? And to think, Snape had more than once been surprised that the man was not a Slytherin. The man surely had to have noticed that Snape was avoiding some topics and providing very little information of use in most of the others. Still, he did not wish to completely alienate his employer.

"I have seen to it that the house he resides in is well protected. It has the same spells and protections I use on my own home, and I will likely add a few more over the coming weeks. In addition, I have placed his true identity under a _Fidelius_ , making it impossible to match with the one he assumed."

" _Fidelius_ , Severus? I was unaware that your skill in delicate charms work extended to such a complex spell."

"I am flattered that you assume that I was the one who cast it, headmaster, rather than a member of the household where he is residing, Headmaster," Snape deflected. He did not wish to lie to Dumbledore, but he was not averse to misleading him with the truth.

"Am I correct to infer from your tone that you have no intentions of sharing the secret with me?"

"At the moment, I judge it best that as few people as possible know. Given my vow to protect the boy, I trust you will respect my decision in this."

"Ah, yes, your vow. I had hoped we would have the opportunity to speak of that. It was an impressive feat of magic, Severus, although I regret that you felt it was necessary."

Seeing as that was not an actual apology, Snape merely sat and waited for the headmaster to continue.

"I imagine that your words were as binding as an unbreakable vow."

"Filius has been assisting me with my research into the matter, and we have found no reason to think otherwise." And a multitude of reasons to think that Dumbledore was correct, but that hardly needed to be shared.

The headmaster nodded, stroking his beard. "Should you find yourself in need of assistance fulfilling that vow, I would like to offer my support."

"Headmaster, I…" Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I thank you for your offer, however I am hesitant to accept."

Dumbledore opened his mouth, but Snape raised a hand, silently requesting the opportunity to explain himself.

"You are a general, and as such, you are obliged to keep the broader impacts of all your actions in mind. Your decisions impact the course of the war, and I do not envy you that responsibility. However, those decisions also determine the course of individual lives, Dumbledore, and I fear you cannot help but forget sometimes that that a rockslide might be begun by a single pebble.

"I do understand that if you spent all your time worrying about the pebbles, you'd never be able to make a decision. But that is why you have people to advise you. People such as myself. And on this topic, you ought to have listened to me. I know firsthand how being maltreated at home can twist a child's outlook. How might things have been different if I had come from a supportive household and did not feel the driving need to prove myself? How might things have been different if Hogwarts had truly been the haven of safety I had hoped for rather than a nest of disapproving peers where bullying went unpunished?"

Dumbledore's expression was disdainful and his tone biting as he replied, "And so you took the Mark because of the actions of others and through no fault of your own?"

"No!" Snape slammed his open palm down on the arm of his chair, the thwack resounding loudly enough to make Fawkes look up from where he had been preening himself near Dumbledore's desk. "You misunderstand me. I made my choices and I must live with the consequences, as must we all. There is no good to be found in blaming others for your own misdeeds.

"However, it does no good to deny the truth in the pattern either. Under different circumstances, I might have chosen a different path—a lighter path. I do not want to see Potter face those same circumstances, and you could not have guaranteed his safety from his relatives had you sent him back. A mistreated child seeking approval may welcome the twisted version of it offered in the darkest corners of our world. What would you have done if the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord chose instead to join him?"

The old man looked away from the full force of Snape's glare, shaking his head. "In this, you are more knowledgable than myself, it is true. I should not have dismissed you when you attempted to warn me." Now Dumbledore looked up and Snape could see the unshed tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. "You have my most sincere apologies, Severus. And my word that I will not oppose your attempts to protect Harry."

It was like a weight was lifted off his chest. "Thank you, Albus. And I would welcome your support, however before accepting your aid, I would have your word on more than that you merely will not oppose me."

"What would you have me swear, my boy?" As Snape expected, the hint that he would allow the headmaster to be at all involved in Harry's life caught the old man's interest at once. He wondered how far he could push his luck.

"First, I would ask your public support should my oath-bound role in Potter's life come to light, as I am sure we both know it will not be looked on favorably."

"You have it," Dumbledore said at once.

One hurdle down, although admittedly the easiest one. And if Dumbledore did not ask for specifics and thus was unaware that he was agreeing to support Snape's adoption of the boy, well Snape could hardly be blamed for that.

"Beyond that, if you wish to be involved in his life as more than the headmaster of the school he attends, I would have your pledge that you will not knowingly oppose any of my decisions regarding his welfare. Nor will you, in absence of explicit knowledge of my wishes, take any action that would affect Harry in a way which you might reasonably expect I would disapprove of."

There was a pause of a few seconds before, "I am afraid I cannot promise that. No, listen a moment," Dumbledore cut off Snape's attempt to speak. "I am not denying the spirit of your request. However, your choice of wording would give you undue influence over decisions that in the normal course of things you would have little or no authority over. Staff appointments, for example. I know you disapprove of Professor Newberry, for example, and under your terms I would have been unable to appoint him as a potential instructor when Harry comes to Hogwarts. Or my role as head of the Wizengamot? Must I now consider your opinions before voting?"

It had been worth a try, Snape mused, though he was not surprised that the headmaster had seen that potential flaw. Now to begin negotiations.

"Specify that the decision must be one that would directly affect Potter as opposed to indirectly. That ought to negate the issue of the Wizengamot and your other appointments. And add that my influence over decisions at Hogwarts would be limited to that of any other staff member or," he hesitated, not wanting to give too much away, "guardian. I believe my role as his protector warrants that much authority, would you not agree?" Again he was speaking the truth, if not all of it.

"Indeed, and that is an improvement. I have a few suggestions of my own, if you do not object to hearing them."

It took twenty minutes and several attempts at revising the wording, but eventually they came to an agreement that Snape felt would assure Dumbledore could not act in a way that Snape felt would endanger Harry and that Dumbledore felt would not grant Snape authority over matters that weren't his to decide.

"Do you wish an unbreakable vow?" Dumbledore asked. "Shall I summon Minerva to be the bonder?"

Snape had considered it, but the very fact that Dumbledore was offering made him dismiss the idea. "Your word will suffice, headmaster." Dumbledore could be described in many ways, not all of them flattering, but no one could call him dishonorable. To a man like Dumbledore, his word was as binding as any oath.

"It is yours, then."

They shook hands and Snape considered the matter sealed.

"Might I see him, then?"

He had been prepared for this request. In fact, he was surprised it had not been one of the first things Dumbledore had said. Given the outcome of their meeting thus far, Snape was inclined to look upon the request a good deal more favorably than he otherwise might have done, which was likely why the man had waited, Snape realized. However, as Harry still could not transform into Erebus…

"Allow me some time. The boy has had his life greatly disrupted lately, and I would prefer to give him the opportunity to adjust before compounding matters further. Not today, and likely not this week, but I will see to it that something is arranged before the start of term."

Against all expectations, Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, my boy. I will look forward to it."

As happened so often when dealing with the headmaster, Snape left the office wondering just who had come out on top of the exchange. He shook his head. It hardly mattered. He had secured the headmaster's support of his adoption of The Boy Who Lived—not that the man knew it—and had limited the older man's ability to act against his own wishes. It was more than he had hoped for, and he was determined to be pleased.

He only hoped that Harry had not gotten into any trouble back at Spinner's End.

* * *

 **Good decision or bad decision? What do you think of Dumbledore here? Where does he fall on a scale of "doting old fool" past "misguided" through "leader faced with difficult choices" up to "evil, manipulative, bastard."**


	10. Return to the Unexpected

**AN: Insert standard apology for waiting too long between posts here. The story is plotted to the end, but it isn't down on paper yet, so as long as work stays busy updates will likely stay slow. But they will happen. I'm also plotting a Halloween story which may delay things a bit since it's time sensitive in a way this one isn't. We'll see.**

 _ ***adopts a TV announcer voice* Last time on Unfamiliar Familiar: Snape left Harry home alone to attend a staff meeting. After the meeting he had a chat with Dumbledore and told him that Harry has been located. Dumbledore does not know where Harry is or that Harry is Erebus or any of that. Dumbledore has also promised (no magical vow just a good old fashioned "you have my word" kind of promise) to support Snape in protecting Harry while Snape has essentially promised not to abuse Dumbledore's promise of support through manipulation and so on.**_

* * *

Snape stepped through the floo to find the sitting room empty and devoid of any evidence that suggested the kinds of chaos that could be caused by an unsupervised child. This was something of a relief. Finding Harry's books abandoned at the kitchen table was less so. But it was when the child did not respond to Snape's call and was not found in his room, or any other room in the house, that he began to worry.

There were any number of horrible things that could have happened, and Snape's mind ran through at least a dozen as he ran out the door to the back garden, wand drawn. Alert as he was for danger he still missed the presence of the witch until it was too late to counter the spell she sent his way. A host of pebbles rose up and began swarming him, pelting him from every angle. There were several seconds of chaos before he could cast the counter to the oppugno jinx. As the rocks fell away, allowing him to uncover his face, he found himself staring down the wand of a very angry Minerva McGonagall.

"I ought to hex you into next month. What were you thinking to leave him alone like that? Anything could have happened!"

His first impulse was to defend his actions but it was overtaken by his need for information. "Where is Harry? Is he alright?"

The answer to his question came in the form of a loud squawk followed by a black and red form winging his way. Without thinking, he raised his arm and the great bird settled itself with the ease and familiarity of long practice, if not with any particular grace. "Erebus, I have missed you!" Snape said after a moment of stunned silence. He reached out to caress the parrot's head, giving an affectionate tug on a few crest feathers. Erebus leaned into the touch before climbing up to Snape's shoulder, his overlarge beak poking a hole in Snape's robes as he used it for leverage, and beginning to preen the man's hair. He turned to thank McGonagall and found that her furious glare had been replaced by a look of incredible smugness. The impulse to remove that look was irresistible.

"I never imagined anyone could be more stubborn than Harry is. I am glad to discover that I was wrong." Snape held his face immobile as McGonagall took in the backhanded compliment and her self-satisfied air vanished.

"If all it took was stubbornness, you would have managed on your own," came the sharp retort.

He was too relieved at this development to continue the verbal sparring that so often characterized their interactions, so he merely acknowledged the barb with a nod before turning his attention back to Erebus. He stroked the bird's breast feathers a few times before speaking again, this time to his avian companion. "I need to have a few words with Professor McGonagall. Would you like to fly some more or go inside?"

Erebus half spread his wings and bobbed twice before tilting his head at Snape.

"Very well. Off with you then, and be sure to return for dinner."

"Was that wise, Severus?" McGonagall asked as the bird winged his way out of sight. "Don't you think that he ought to be supervised, given his age?"

Snape sneered a bit, but refrained from rolling his eyes. "Erebus has always been free to fly about. I see no reason why that should change. Besides, the sheer joy he experiences while flying…" Snape closed his eyes for a moment and mentally sought the connection to his familiar, feeling that same joy was over his own mind. "No, I could not take that from him."

"I suppose, but what about Harry? He is certainly too young to be left alone at home. Even you must admit that you were concerned for him when you returned. Anything might have happened."

"I assure you, I was left to my own devices at his age for much longer stretches and never came to any significant harm."

McGonagall sniffed. "And, of course, you seek to emulate your parents, who were the epitome of sound parenting. I really don't think—"

Snape's glare must have penetrated McGonagall's self-righteous ire, for she stopped mid-sentence. "My father was a drunken lout, as you well know, but do not dare to speak another word against my mother in my presence." How dare she! Eileen Snape nee Prince had been far from perfect, Snape knew. Married to a brute in a time when divorce carried significant stigma in the muggle world, cut off from her family and therefore unable to return to the somewhat more tolerant wizarding world, and too prone to illness to hold any job for long enough to support herself and a growing boy should she dare to leave and continue life as a muggle, there were few options available to her. He might wish she had made different choices, but the clarity of hindsight had allowed him to accept that she had done her best.

The contrite look on McGonagall's face eased some of his ire even before she spoke. "Forgive me. Eileen and I were friends of a sort at school, and I have often wished I had worked harder to stay in contact with her after we left Hogwarts. Those were not easy days for me, and…well, there is little point wasting time wishing for what can never be. I apologize, Severus, I should not have maligned her."

It was several moments before Snape could gather his wits about him sufficiently to suggest they move inside to continue their discussion. They settled themselves at his kitchen table and Snape set about making and serving tea, his thoughts whirling all the time with this revelation. He had worked with McGonagall for eight years and had never known that she had been friends with his mother. If he had bothered to think about it he might have realized that they had been in school at the same time, but his mother had never spoken much of her own life before her marriage and estrangement from her family. Knowing that they had been friends prompted a strange tightness in Snape's chest.

With difficulty he shook off his maudlin reflections and took a sip of his tea, forcing himself to take a moment to observe the beautiful summer day, the fresh air blowing through the open window, and the relief of knowing that Harry could once again become Erebus. Calmer now, he decided to steer the conversation away from such sentimental topics and on to the business of the day.

"Dumbledore is aware now that I know Harry's location," he said, and then recounted the meeting briefly. McGonagall had several questions about the vow they had made, and Snape gave a more detailed account of that, answering her shrewd inquiries with a show of annoyance, though he could admit to himself that he was pleased with his co-conspirator's insight and appreciation for the subtleties of the situation.

At last she seemed satisfied with the information she had been given. "I do think you ought to tell the headmaster of Erebus sooner rather than later, but," she raised a hand, forestalling Snape's interruption, "but I can find no fault with your current arrangements."

Snape nodded at that. He did not need her approval, of course, but it was nice to have it nonetheless.

They shared several moments of silence then, though by the way she was tapping her thumb against her chin, Snape was sure McGonagall had something on her mind.

"When do you plan to ask Harry about his past?" she said at last. "Dumbledore is not the only one who is eager to know the circumstances that led us to this point."

"No, he is not," Snape acceded. His own curiosity on that topic had been like an itch he could not scratch, for he had yet to find the right way to begin the conversation, or even decide if it was a conversation worth attempting so soon after the shift in their relationship. "As for when, that is difficult to say. Erebus trusts me, but Harry…it is different with Harry. Our interactions are more strained, and I do not wish to disturb what little equilibrium the boy has gained on the off chance that he retains clear memories from when he was four."

McGonagall considered that. "He seems settled enough for this, I would think. When I arrived he spoke at some length about how you have set him a course of study and helped him with his reading. It is obvious to me that he thinks quite highly of you."

"Perhaps," Snape mused. It was not that he thought McGonagall was mistaken, but rather that she was not aware of the stressed overtones of some of the conversations he had had with Harry. It was natural that his interactions with Harry would be different from what he shared with Erebus, and Snape would prefer things to be more settled between them before testing this new relationship. Still, he did wonder.

There was another question that had occurred to him more than once over the last week that he had hesitated to ask Harry. The boy would likely take it the wrong way. "I have been considering something. I know that your form is nothing like his, but why do you think it was that Erebus never told us he was Harry, even after he knew we were looking for him?"

"I can only guess," McGonagall began but was interrupted by a gust of wind blowing through the kitchen window, disturbing some of the papers that Harry had left stacked on the table. A glance outside revealed a bit of a storm gathering on the horizon. With a flick of his wand, Snape spelled the window to block the wind but allow Erebus entry when he returned. Another gesture straightened the papers and relocated them to the counter, out of his way.

"As I was saying, it is only supposition, but I believe he didn't say anything because he was incapable of it," McGonagall said, more acerbically than Snape felt was necessary.

"I do not understand. Erebus has an impressive vocabulary, what would a few more words have mattered?"

"You really don't understand," McGonagall snapped. She took a breath and continued more calmly. "The mind and the body are two different entities," she said, as though that explained everything.

When she did not continue, Snape said, "Obviously, or else the dementor's kiss would kill the body the moment the soul was removed, but what does that…"

"Yes, that's it exactly!" She interrupted, becoming more animated as she continued, "A body can exist without a mind, you see. But you must also think about it the other way around: it is only through the body that the mind can be expressed. The human mind finds its fullest expression in a human body, and even then it can be limited in expression whether by the inherent weakness of the body, an injury, growing older, or anything else you might care to name.

"Now consider when a witch or wizard takes on an animal form. He or she retains her mind, but finds that mind constrained by the brain of the animal body. As a cat I can read, but I would not be able to write, not even by dragging my paw through dust. Perhaps with very extensive training I might manage it, but the cat brain simply cannot fathom the importance of the exact shape and precise positioning of the various lines and curves. If I tried it right now the result would be my cat form pawing at the ground leaving behind a meaningless mess."

That made an odd sort of sense to Snape. Harry had learned potions while sitting in class as Erebus, so his mind was there taking in information like a human child. However, instead of saying "don't do that" or similar when he spotted a mistake, he had needed to utilize avian behaviors to prevent it such as flying at students and knocking over their ingredients.

"So," he said slowly, considering his conclusion as he spoke, "that would mean that Harry knew we were searching for him, but was unable to find a way to communicate that as Erebus."

McGonagall gave him a pleased look as though he was still one of her pupils who had just answered a particularly challenging question. "Precisely. I imagine he learned words the way any parrot does: through repetition of the sounds he heard often and found interesting. If Erebus's instincts as guided by Harry's mind had been given more time, perhaps he would have learned his own name, but as it was he might not have heard it often enough or…well, I do not understand parrots very well, but I think you take my meaning."

Snape nodded but his mind was otherwise occupied with a disturbing idea. He needed confirmation from McGonagall, but he did not wish to bias her answer so it took him several moments to form his question. "Erebus already spoke a few phrases when he arrived at Hogwarts. How do you think he had learned those? Was it possible that the parrot brain essentially learned some common words and phrases from his childhood upon his first transformation?"

"Hmm, I never heard of such a thing," McGonagall said, but she continued before Snape could relax, "However, there are precious few published works recounting the first transformations of animagi, and none that I can recall at the moment involve a form capable of mimicking human speech." She stared into the middle distance, a habit of hers that Snape knew meant she was thinking deeply on something. Then she blinked and shook her head, "No, I cannot remember even one such account. I would imagine it is possible he could speak a few words upon transformation, though. My own experience, and that of others, was that the use of the new form was more or less instinctual. If I knew how to meow, why should Erebus not know common vocalizations and phrases he heard often as Harry?"

Very carefully, Snape set his teacup down. He was afraid he might hurl it across the room otherwise. Those muggles were more fortunate than they would ever know, for if it were not for his own intense desire to avoid Azkaban, he would not hesitate to apparate to Surry at this very moment and…. He would not even allow himself to complete the thought, lest it be too tempting. He realized that he had been silent for several minutes and McGonagall was staring at him curiously.

He took a deep breath and tried to explain. "He knew several phrases when he came to Hogwarts. Several. Not a single one of them included his name."

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

Ever since the visit to the Dursley residence he had known that Harry had been neglected by his family. Criminally so. But this was…inhumane on another level entirely. "He didn't hear his own name spoken often enough for Erebus to know it, Minerva."

She blinked. "I see," and her tone let him know that she did indeed see. Yet he sensed that her anger was a far cry from Snape's silent rage. "But you already knew he was not treated well. I heard your report of that initial visit. Neglect, you said, and likely emotional abuse beyond that. Are you really surprised by this development?"

Snape shook his head, unable to explain something he felt so intuitively. Names had power. Every witch or wizard worth their wand knew that. But the focus in school was on the power of names to enhance spells through personalization. For Merlin's sake, one of the reasons that the Dark Lord was afraid of Dumbledore was that Dumbledore not only knew his true name, but actually thought of him as Tom Riddle. That allowed the headmaster access to powerful spells that those who thought of him as the Dark Lord, Voldemort, You-Know-Who, or any of this other monikers would never be able to cast.

Yet what the Dursleys had done was on the other end of the spectrum of that same power. How could one truly explain the horror of denying a child his own name to such an extent? At the moment he had neither the energy nor the inclination to attempt to put it into words. He allowed that tiredness to seep into his voice as he replied, "No, I suppose I am not."

McGonagall gave him an understanding look. "You need to ask Harry about the circumstances that led him to transform and flee his aunt and uncle's house, Severus. Do so soon," she pleaded, "for both your sakes."

* * *

 **We'll see some more Snape-Harry interaction next time, promise. Raise your hand if you're happy to see Erebus again!**


End file.
